By  Samuel  Parsons,  Jr. 

Landscape  Gardening 
Art  of  Landscape  Architecture 


The  Treatment  of  the  Natural  Wood-lawn  and  the  Brook,  by  the  Owner,  on 
the  Estate  of  John  Staples,  Esq.,  Newburgh  N.  Y. 

s 


Ube  Ed:  of 
Xanbscape  architecture 

Its  Development  and  its  Application  to 
Modern   Landscape  Gardening 


By 

Samuel  ffmrsone 

Fellow  of  the  American  Society  of  Landscape  Architects 
Author  of  "  Landscape  Gardening,"  etc. 


With  48  Illustrations 


G.  P.  Putnam's   Sons 

New  York  and  London 

Cbe   linicftetbocftet   press 

1915 


LANDSCAPE 

ARCHITECTURE 

COPYRIGHT,  1915 

BY 

SAMUEL  PARSONS 


Ube  fmfcfcerbocfeer  press,  «ew  Borft 


J 


Co 
ANDREW  H.  GREEN 

the  Father  of  Greater  New  York,  this  book  is  respectfully  dedicated 
in  recognition  of  the  fact  that  he  was  Central  Park's  best  friend  from 
the  time  of  its  inception  and  because  he  was  always  and  ever  the  loyal 
and  powerful  support  of  the  author  in  his  endeavours  to  protect  the  Park 
from  ill-judged  and  injurious  invasions. 


616 


PREFACE 

THERE  have  been  several  authoritative  books 
written  entitled  Observations  or  Hints  on  Mod- 
ern Gardening  or  else  the  Theory  and  Practice 
of  Landscape  Gardening.  In  later  times,  however,  it 
has  been  felt  that  a  title  of  wider  scope  was  needed  than 
"landscape  gardening,"  which  seems  to  limit  the  sub- 
ject in  the  minds  of  many  to  the  treatment  of  a  flower 
garden  or  an  exhibition  of  brilliant  colour  in  a  parterre 
of  bedding  plants. 

An  architect,  taken  from  the  Greek,  means  master 
builder.  He  is  one  who  designs  and  frames  any  com- 
plex structure;  one  who  arranges  elementary  material 
on  a  comprehensive  plan. 

Plato  made  "the  causes  of  things  to  be  matter,  ideas, 
and  an  efficient  architect. "  Although  the  term  archi- 
tect has  come  to  mean  almost  exclusively  master 
builders  in  wood,  stone,  iron,  etc.,  the  term  landscape 
architect  is  equally  appropriate.  A  landscape  artist, 
who  creates  scenery  .from  trees  and  flowers  and  earth 
and  rock  and  water,  arranges  elementary  materials  on 
a  comprehensive  plan.  He  has  his  standards  of  work- 
manship like  the  architect,  and  these  standards  are 
subtle  and  difficult  to  establish  and  explain,  because 


vi  preface 

they  are  dependent  for  their  value  on  the  growth  of 
living  things.  Such  artistic  work  is  also  dependent 
for  value  on  the  general  consensus  of  opinion  delivered 
by  well  recognized  authorities.  The  work  is  done  in- 
stinctively; criticism  and  rules  may  be  deduced  from 
the  work  afterwards,  but  good  artistic  design  and  crafts- 
manship are  instinctive.  Kant,  in  discussing  aesthetic 
judgment,  said,  "judgments  of  taste  are  not  susceptible 
of  proof,  but  they  may  be  evoked  when  an  opportunity 
for  immediate  perception  occurs.  Their  general  valid- 
ity is  exemplary,  i.e.,  it  is  gained  by  means  of  examples, 
not  rules. "  Investigating  the  production  of  the  beauti- 
ful in  art,  the  same  writer  says  "that  the  production 
like  the  estimation  is  carried  on  without  the  guidance  of 
abstract  rules,  and  yet  in  such  wise  that  that  which  is 
produced  is  the  object  of  general  recognition  and  may 
serve  as  a  model, "  and  Schopenhauer  even  goes  so  far 
as  to  say  that  "the  fine  arts  do  not  advance  beyond 
intention  and  hence  give  fragments,  and  examples,  but 
no  rule  or  totality. " 

Therefore,  it  will  be  conceded  that  the  art  of  land- 
scape architecture  is  not  subject  to  the  application  of 
hard  and  fast  rules  as  a  science  would  be.  The  study 
of  nature  assisted  by  the  best  examples  is  the  proper 
field  for  the  art  of  landscape  architecture.  Models 
are  based  on  approval  by  persons  of  recognized  fitness 
for  rendering  judgment.  One  can  no  more  indicate  the 
rules  that  govern  the  development  of  the  work  of  the 
landscape  architect  than  he  can  explain  how  a  Titian 
was  painted.  The  result  is  evident,  and  ideas  and 


preface  vii 

suggestions  are  evoked,  helpful  to  the  artist,  not  only 
because  he  recognizes  excellences  himself,  but  because 
he  is  stimulated  by  the  approval  of  respectable  author- 
ities and  taught  (if  he  has  it  in  him)  to  do  something 
of  similar  value  transfused  by  the  peculiar  genius  of  his 
own  mind  and  spirit. 

In  order  to  work  out  landscape  designs  properly  some 
knowledge  of  good  practice  is  necessary.  Hints  and 
suggestions  point  the  way  and  lighten  the  labour  of 
traversing  it.  The  hints  and  suggestions  of  this  book 
refer  to  both  theory  and  practice  and  give  as  much 
information  as  the  space  will  allow.  The  student 
should  seek  to  dwell  on  the  various  features  of  land- 
scape interest  in  gardens  and  parks  or  estates,  a  few  of 
which  are  here  considered  and  illustrated.  Especially 
worthy  of  consideration  are  the  features  of  small  es- 
tates. They  show  less  evidence  of  the  academic  in- 
fluences which  naturally  make  the  large  places  hardly 
available  as  practical  examples  for  general  use. 

It  is  rather  remarkable  that  one  of  the  oldest  of  the 
arts,  landscape  gardening,  has  had  comparatively  small 
attention  given  to  the  exposition  of  examples,  and  the 
ideas  they  evoke.  In  fact,  among  all  the  writers  on 
this  subject,  scarcely  half  a  dozen  have  attacked  this 
particular  phase  of  it;  Whately,  Repton,  Prince  Puck- 
ler,  A.  J.  Downing,  and  Edouard  Andre  have  shown  in 
their  writings  that  they  have  grasped  the  subject  in  a 
large  and  competent  way.  The  difficulty  of  late  years 
seems  to  have  been  that  horticulture  has  developed  so 
rapidly  that  in  the  desire  to  display  novel  and  beautiful 


viii  preface 

plants,  the  real  essence  of  landscape  gardening  has  been 
allowed  to  escape  like  a  lost  fragrance.  If  there  are 
quantities  of  beautiful  foliage  and  flowers  available  it 
has  been  thought  only  necessary  to  have  what  is  called 
"good  taste'*  to  be  able  to  arrange  them  on  a  lawn. 
The  idea  seems  seldom  to  have  been  considered  that 
models  in  the  form  of  scenes  on  large  and  small  estates 
should  be  studied  in  the  light  of  the  best  literature 
on  the  subject  before  attempting  to  do  landscape 
work. 

Further  proof  of  the  ignorance  of  the  general  public  of 
the  essence  of  landscape  gardening  is  shown  by  the  lack 
of  interest  in  the  writings  of  the  greatest  of  landscape 
gardeners,  Whately,  Repton,  and  Prince  Puckler. 
The  latter  has  not  even  been  translated  into  English; 
Whately  has  been  read  in  no  new  edition  for  more  than 
one  hundred  years,  and  Repton,  after  almost  an  equal 
length  of  time,  has  been  published  by  Houghton  &  Mif- 
flin  in  an  edition  by  John  Nolen,  a  well-known  land- 
scape architect  in  Boston,  Massachusetts,  who  has 
written  an  illuminating  introduction  of  Repton's  work, 
including  his  sketches  and  hints  and  his  theory  and 
practice  of  landscape  gardening.  The  writings  of 
Olmsted  &  Vaux,  the  designers  of  Central  Park,  New 
York  City,  whose  pronouncements  on  the  subject  of 
landscape  gardening  are  of  the  highest  value,  have 
never  been  collected  from  their  reports,  letters,  and 
addresses.  William  A.  Stiles,  editor  of  the  Garden  and 
Forest  Magazine,  1888-1898,  where  he  frequently  dis- 
qusses  with  comprehension,  and  great  literary  skill, 


preface  ix 

the  fundamental  principles  of  landscape  gardening,  is 
almost  unknown  to  the  public. 

It  will  be  found  that  the  contents  of  some  of  the 
chapters  deal  with  landscape  gardening  in  ways  that 
will  be  liable  to  give  a  slight  shock  to  those  who  have 
the  ordinary  conception  of  the  art.  For  example,  the 
treatment  of  grading,  of  planting,  of  roads  and  paths, 
rocks,  islands,  water,  the  poetry  of  parks,  the  proper 
function  of  gardens  may  seem  to  go  somewhat  far  in 
taking  what  might  be  termed  novel  views  of  the  sub- 
ject, in  giving  "a  touch  more  than  the  maximum."  It  is 
for  that  reason,  chiefly,  that  many  quotations  are  used  in 
order  to  prove  that  the  ideas  presented  have  the  support 
of  competent  authorities  both  ancient  and  modern ;  and 
the  reference  to  models  of  standard  excellence  in  many 
periods  and  countries  has  a  similar  purpose  in  view. 

My  own  contribution  to  the  present  work  has  been 
largely  limited  to  the  collection  of  these  citations  and 
references  made  in  the  text  and  footnotes,  and  such 
definition  and  explanation  of  ideas  presented  as  will 
tend  to  simplify  their  proper  understanding.  I  have 
endeavoured  to  show  that  landscape  gardening  has  been 
and  is  the  result  of  an  evolution  and  growth  of  an  impor- 
tant art,  based  on  the  deepest  instincts  of  human  nature. 

Above  most  other  arts,  landscape  architecture  is 
based  on  nature,  and  my  own  particular  function  in  this 
book  I  conceive  to  be  to  point  out  how  and  why  the  art 
should  be  practised  on  natural  lines,  and  something  of 
the  degree  to  which  this  course,  in  spite  of  much  seeming 
divergence,  is  supported  by  well-recognized  authorities. 


x  ipreface 

It  has  been,  moreover,  my  object  to  show  that  the 
evolution  of  growing  things,  the  development  of  dis- 
tinct types  of  effect,  although  greatly  varied,  can  be,  and 
should  be,  made  to  bear  the  stamp  alike  of  definite 
though  perhaps  instinctive  ideas  throughout  the  vari- 
ous kinds  of  landscape  gardening,  whether  it  be  a  park, 
an  estate,  a  village  garden,  or  a  window  box.  It  should 
make  a  fine  picture  no  matter  how  small  or  how  large. 

The  growth  or  evolution  of  landscape  gardening  has 
been  more  than  a  mere  series  of  individual  experiences, 
for  "experience  is  extended  and  enriched  by,  we  have  to 
remember,  not  merely  and  primarily  knowledge.  We 
begin  by  trying  and  end  by  knowing.  Practice  is  the 
parent  of  theory  and  realization  the  surest  verification. " 
Moreover,  "evolution,  strictly  taken,  presupposes  a 
fundamental  unity  in  which  all  that  is  eventually  evolved 
or  disclosed  was  involved  or  contained  from  the  first. 
The  whole  is  more  than  the  sum  of  the  parts,  that  is  the 
character  of  evolution.  A  unity  that  is  not  more  than 
its  constituent  elements  is  no  real  unity  at  all.  Experi- 
ence furnishes  instances  of  this  at  every  turn.  The 
timbre  of  a  musical  note  is  more  than  the  sum  of  its 
constituent  tones:  a  melody,  more  than  the  sum  of  its 
separate  notes";  again:  "if  the  whole  be  a  tree,  it  may 
be  true  that  one  fails  to  see  the  trunk  because  of  the 
branches,  and  yet  it  is  from  the  trunk  that  all  these 
spring."1 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  past  of  landscape  garden- 
ing is  so  fruitful  of  valuable  suggestions  for  the  present. 

1  Realm  of  Ends,  Prof.  James  Ward,  pp.  100,  101, 104. 


preface  xi 

The  past  is  not  only  valuable  as  a  lesson  with  which 
to  correct  and  enrich  present-day  practice,  but  because 
it  will  help  to  develop,  or  release  perhaps,  germs  of 
thought,  which  will  eventually  correct  and  enrich  all 
we  learn  in  the  future. 

My  own  experience  has  had  considerable  scope  in 
the  way  of  working  out  landscape  gardening  problems 
on  parks  and  estates  with  Mr.  Calvert  Vaux,  and  by 
myself,  not  only  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  but  in  dif- 
ferent estates  and  parks  of  America.  I  have  naturally 
studied  many  examples  both  at  home  and  abroad. 
Nevertheless,  I  have  cited  few  examples  of  my  own  work 
and  have  taken  the  liberty  of  devoting  the  greater  part 
of  the  book  to  extracts  from  writings  of  unquestioned 
authority  in  support  of  my  ideas,  hoping  thereby  to 
more  firmly  establish  the  art  of  landscape  architecture 
in  the  dignified  position  it  already  occupies  in  the 
brotherhood  of  artistic  professions. 

It  has  been  also  recognized  throughout  the  book  that 
the  object  sought  is  the  exposition  of  landscape-gar- 
dening doctrine  and  different  methods  of  laying  out 
grounds.  The  chapter  at  the  end  of  the  book  is  only 
intended  to  give  practical  suggestions  in  regard  to  the 
use  of  a  certain  number  of  choice  groups  of  plants. 

My  endeavour  has  been  to  make  my  ideas  clear,  and 
this  is  one  reason  I  have  used  so  many  and  lengthy 
quotations,  expecting  that  by  the  use  of  the  phrases  of 
masters  of  the  language  as  well  as  of  the  art  of  land- 
scape architecture  I  might  attain  a  better  degree  of 
success.  Master  of  the  art  of  eloquent  and  lucid  Ian- 


xii  preface 

guage  I  do  not  claim  to  be,  but  I  feel  that,  as  a  landscape 
architect,  in  advocating  important  landscape-garden- 
ing principles  and  ideas  I  have  a  message  to  deliver 
and  therefore  propose  to  convey  it  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,  hoping  that  I  may  be  able  to  impart  a  reason- 
able portion  of  my  meaning  to  the  reader. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  Mr.  August  F.  Jaccaci,  Mr. 
William  B.  Van  Ingen,  and  Dr.  Fred  Hovey  Allen  for 
the  trouble  they  have  taken  to  assist  me  by  means  of 
criticisms  and  valuable  suggestions.  Mr.  W.  W.  Cook 
was  the  first  to  encourage  me  to  undertake  the  work  of 
writing  this  book  and  he  has  made  many  suggestions, 
the  value  of  which  I  realize  and  appreciate.  The 
compilation  of  authorities  by  Albert  Forbes  Sieveking 
has  also  afforded  me  assistance.  As  far  as  possible 
without  unduly  overloading  the  text  I  have  endeav- 
oured to  give  credit  to  the  authorities  from  whom  I 
have  quoted.  I  wish  to  express  my  appreciation  of  the 
courtesy  and  kindness  which  I  have  received  from  the 
officials  of  the  New  York  Public  Library  and  from  those 
of  the  Library  of  Columbia  University.  I  cannot  close 
without  again  referring  to  the  inspiration  of  the  late 
Calvert  Vaux,  the  influence  of  whose  ideas  on  land- 
scape architecture  has  been  and  always  will  be  for  me 
a  potent  stimulus  to  seek  to  do  only  good  work  in 
the  practice  of  my  profession  and  to  arrive  at  sound 
solutions  of  the  various  problems  of  the  art. 

S.  P. 

NEW  YORK,  January,  1915. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE       .  ,         .         .         .         .         .       iii 

I. — INTRODUCTION.         .         .         .         .         .         i 

II. — THE  LAYING  OUT  OF  A  PARK  OR  ESTATE  .       40 
III. — SIZE  AND  EXTENT  OF  AN  ESTATE       .         .       77 

IV. — ENCLOSURES 91 

V. — LOCATION  OF  BUILDINGS  .         .         .         .102 

VI. — GRASS  SPACES 120 

VII. — ROADS  AND  PATHS  .         .         .         .         .132 

VIII.— WATER    .         .  ,. 143 

IX. — ISLANDS  .         .         .         .         .         .         .163 

X. — ROCKS     .         .         *         .         .         .         .     170 

XL — GRADING  AND  SHAPING  GROUNDS       .         .184 
XII. — PLANTATIONS    .         .  .         .         .     200 

XIII. — MAINTENANCE  .         .  .         .         .     226 

XIV.— GARDENS          •         •         •         •         •         •     238 

xiii 


xiv  Contents 

PAGE 

XV. — PUBLIC  PARKS  .    .    .    .    .    .264 

XVI.— CHOICE  TREES  AND  SHRUBS   .    .    .  305 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 337 

INDEX 343 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

THE  TREATMENT  OF  THE  NATURAL  WOOD-LAWN 
AND  THE  BROOK,  BY  THE  OWNER,  ON  THE 
ESTATE  OF  JOHN  STAPLES,  ESQ.,  NEWBURGH, 
N.  Y.  .  .  .  .  .  Frontispiece 

A  JAPANESE  GARDEN 10 

From  a  Photograph  by  Underwood  &  Underwood.  (Repro- 
duced by  Permission.) 

MOUNT  VERNON,  THE  HOME  OF  GEORGE  WASHING- 
TON   58 

Reproduced   by    Permission    of    Doubleday,    Page    &    Co. 
From  a  Photograph  by  Arthur  G.  Eldredge. 

BOSCA,  OR  GROVE,  ON  A  PLACE  NEAR  ELMSFORD,  N.  Y.       58 

Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 

THE  LAWN  IN  FRONT  OF  THE  CASTLE,  IN  THE  PARK  OF 
MUSKAU,  AS  ORIGINALLY  LAID  OUT  ...  60 

Taken  from  an  Old  Print. 

THE  SAME  LAWN  IN  FRONT  OF  THE  CASTLE,  IN  THE 
PARK  OF  MUSKAU  AS  REDESIGNED  BY  PRINCE 
PUCKLER  .......  60 

Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 

A  VIEW  OF  THE  RESIDENCE  AND  THE  DRIVE  AT 
SKYLANDS — A  COUNTRY  ESTATE  IN  NEW  JERSEY  .  70 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 


xvi  Illustrations 

PAGE 

STRATHFIELD  SAVE,  THE  ESTATE  OF  THE  DUKE  OF 
WELLINGTON,  ENGLAND  .  .  .  .72 

From  a  Photograph  by  Brown  Bros.     (Reproduced  by  Per- 
mission.) 

A  COUNTRY  HOME  NEAR  ELMSFORD,  N.  Y.          .         .       74 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 

A  DISTANT  VISTA  IN  THE  PARK  OF  PRINCE  PUCKLER 
VON  MUSKAU,  SILESIA,  GERMANY  ...  80 

From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears,  Providence,  R.  I. 

THE  GATES  OF  THE  HIGHLANDS  OF  THE  HUDSON 
RIVER  FROM  WEST  POINT,  N.  Y.  ...  90 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

GOETHE'S  COTTAGE  AT  WEIMAR       ....       98 

Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 

A  HONEYSUCKLE  HEDGE  GROWING  ON  WIRE  MESH 
AND  IRON  POSTS 98 

A  GARDENER'S  COTTAGE  AT  SKYLANDS      .         .         .     102 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 

WINDSOR  CASTLE,  ENGLAND    .         .         .         .         .     102 

From  an  Old  Print. 

THE  OPEN  LAWN  NEAR  THE  OBELISK  AND  THE  EAST 
DRIVE,  NEAR  THE  ART  MUSEUM,  CENTRAL  PARK, 
NEW  YORK  CITY 120 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

A  DIAGRAM  SHOWING  THE  PLANTING  SCHEME  FOR 
TREES  AND  SHRUBS  .  .  .  .  .  .134 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 

A  DIAGRAM  SHOWING  DIFFERENT  ARRANGEMENT  OF 
PATHS  .  .  •  .  .  .  .  .  .  134 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 


flilustrations  xvii 

PAGE 

A  WINDING  ROAD  IN  THE  TROSACHS          ...        .         .     140 

From  a  Photograph. 

A  STRAIGHT  DRIVE  ON  THE  EAST  SIDE  OF  THE  RESER- 
VOIR BETWEEN  86TH  AND  94/TH  STREETS,  CENTRAL 

PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY        .         .         .         .         ^    142 

LOVER'S  LANE,  A  WINDING  WALK  PARALLEL  WITH 
THE  SOUTH  SIDE  OF  THE  SOUTH  RESERVOIR, 
CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY  .  .  .144 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

AN  ARTIFICIAL  LAKE  AT  SKYLANDS  .       ...         .         .     146 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 

ON  THE  SHORE  OF  THE  HARLEM  MERE,  CENTRAL 
PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY  ......  148 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

A  VIEW  OF  THE  RIVER  AS  ARRANGED  AND  IMPROVED 
BY  PRINCE  PUCKLER  VON  MUSKAU,  IN  HIS  PARK 
AT  MUSKAU,  SILESIA,  GERMANY  .  .  .  .152 

Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 

THE  BOUNDARY  FENCE  IN  THE  PARK  OF  PRINCE 
PUCKLER  VON  MUSKAU 152 

Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 

AN  ARTIFICIAL  LAKE  BORDERED  BY  RHODODENDRONS, 
IRISES,  AND  OTHER  WATER  PLANTS  AT  HOLM  LEA, 
THE  ESTATE  OF  PROFESSOR  CHARLES  A.  SARGENT, 
BROOKLINE,  MASS.  •  ,•  ...  .  .  .  158 

From  Photograph  by  Thomas  E.  Marr  &  Son.     (Repro- 
duced by  Permission.) 

THE  CASTLE  AND  THE  MOAT,  AND  A  VIEW  OF  THE 
PARK,  ON  THE  ESTATE  OF  PRINCE  PUCKLER  VON 
MUSKAU   .         .         ...         .         .         .         .     160 

From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears. 


xviii  Uliustrations 

PAGE 

A  CASTLE,  LAKE,  AND  MOAT  ON  THE  ESTATE  OF 
PRINCE  PUCKLER  VON  MUSKAU  .  .  .160 

From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears,  Providence,  R.  I. 

THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  MUSEUM  IN  MANHATTAN 
SQUARE,  AND  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  IT  A  POOL  AND 
BRIDGE  IN  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY  .  162 

PARK  TREATMENT  OF  WATER  IN  THE  NEIGHBOUR- 
HOOD OF  DURHAM  CATHEDRAL,  ENGLAND       .         .164 
From  a  Photograph  by  F.  Hovey  Allen. 

A  GRANITE  WALL  MADE  OF  LARGE  BLOCKS  OF  STONE 
WITH  INTERSTICES  FILLED  WITH  EARTH  AND  ROCK 
PLANTS.  ON  THE  ESTATE  OF  W.  W.  COOK  ESQ. 
PORT  CHESTER,  N.  Y 174 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

THE  RUSTIC  BRIDGE  ADJOINING  THE  CAVE  IN  THE 
RAMBLE,  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY  .  .180 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

THE  ROUGH  STONE  BRIDGE,  OVER  AN  ARM  OF  THE 
POND  IN  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEAR  59™  STREET  AND 
5TH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK  CITY  .  .  .  .182 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

A  BRIDGE  AT  LEATHERTON,  DARTMOOR,  ENGLAND      .     184 

From  a  Photograph  Taken  from  Garden  and  Forest.     (By 
Permission.) 

A  ROUGH  STONE  BRIDGE  IN  THE  PARK  ON  THE  ESTATE 
OF  PRINCE  PUCKLER  VON  MUSKAU         .         .         .184 

From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears,  Providence,  R.  I. 

THE  WATERFALL  NEAR  THE  LOCH,  CENTRAL  PARK, 
NEW  YORK  CITY 186 

THE  WATERFALL  SOUTH  OF,  AND  NEAR,  THE  BOULDER 
BRIDGE,  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY   .    .  186 


IFUustrations  xix 

PAGE 

A  VIEW  OF  THE  NORTH  MEADOW,  WITH  A  NOTE- 
WORTHY VISTA  ON  EITHER  SIDE  OF  A  SMALL  GROUP 
OF  TREES,  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY  .  .196 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

A  VIEW  OF  THE  LAWN  OF  J.  G.  AGAR  ESQ.,  PREMIUM 
POINT,  NEW  ROCHELLE,  N.  Y 200 

A  DIAGRAM  SHOWING  ARRANGEMENT  OF  TREES  AND 
SHRUBS  ........  202 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 

DIAGRAMS  SHOWING  ARRANGEMENTS  OF  RIVERS, 
LAKES,  AND  ISLANDS  ......  202 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 

DIAGRAMS  SHOWING  ARRANGEMENT  OF  TREES  AND 
SHRUBS 204 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 

A  DIAGRAM  SHOWING  DIFFERENT  ARRANGEMENTS  OF 
ISLANDS 204 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 

A  DIAGRAM  SHOWING  ARRANGEMENT  OF  SHRUBS  AND 
HERBACEOUS  PLANTS 206 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 

THE  UMPIRE  ROCK  AND  THE  BALL  GROUND,  LOWER 
END  OF  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEAR  59™  STREET  AND  STH 
AVENUE,  NEW  YORK  CITY  ....  232 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

A  PICTURESQUE  VIEW  IN  THE   RAMBLE,  CENTRAL 

PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY 234 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

THE  ARRANGEMENT  OF  THE  BEDS  OF  FOLIAGE  PLANTS 
SUCH  AS  CANNAS,  COLEUSES,  AND  GERANIUMS 


xx  "(Illustrations 

PAGE 

AROUND  THE  ARSENAL,  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK 
CITY         .         .         .         .  .         .         .     240 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.     (Re- 
produced by  Permission.) 

ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  THE  ARRANGEMENT  OF  THE  BEDS 
OF  FOLIAGE  PLANTS  ......  240 

From  a  Photograph  by   Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
(Reproduced  by  Permission.) 

THE  BOBOLI  GARDENS,  FLORENCE,  WITH  A  VIEW  OF 
THE  CITY 250 

From  a  Photograph  Used  by  Permission  of  William  E.  Bliz- 
Zard,  L.  A. 

THE  VILLA  D'ESTE,  TIVOLI,  WITH  THE  CASINO  AT 
THE  LEFT,  JUST  OUT  OF  SIGHT      ....     254 
From  a  Photograph  Used  by  Permission  of  William  E.  Bliz- 
Zard,  L.  A. 

THE  FORMAL  GARDEN  ON  THE  ESTATE  OF  R.  BEALE, 
ESQ.,NEWBURGH,  N.  Y 256 

AN  OLD-FASHIONED  GARDEN   BELONGING  TO  MRS. 
BENEDICT,  UNION  COLLEGE,  SCHENECTADY,  N.  Y    .     262 
From  a  Photograph. 

THE  Bow  BRIDGE  OVER  THE  LAKE  IN  CENTRAL  PARK, 
NEW  YORK  CITY        .         .....     292 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

THE  BOULDER  BRIDGE  NEAR  THE  HARLEM  MERE, 
NORTH  END  OF  CENTRAL  PARK,  NEW  YORK  CITY.  294 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 

THE  PLAN  OF  PARK  TREATMENT  OF  THE  TERRITORY 
SITUATED  BETWEEN  THE  CAPITOL  GROUNDS  AND  THE 
WASHINGTON  MONUMENT  AND  PENNSYLVANIA  AND 
DELAWARE  AVENUES,  WASHINGTON,  D.C  .  .  302 

From  the  Author's  Design. 


Illustrations 


BIRCH  WOODS  ON  THE  ESTATE  OF  ELON  H.  HOOKER, 
ESQ.,  GREENWICH,  CONN  .  .  .  .  .  312 

From  a  Photograph  by  Miss  Frances  Benjamin  Johnston — 
Mrs.  Mattie  Edwards  Hewitt.     (Reproduced  by  Permis- 
sion.) 

A  PICTURESQUE  EFFECT  OF  THE  NATIVE  DOGWOOD, 
(CORNUS  FLORIDA)  ON  THE  ESTATE  OF  R.  W.  DE- 
FOREST, ESQ.,  COLD  SPRING,  LONG  ISLAND  .  .314 

From  a  Photograph  by  Miss  Frances  Benjamin  Johnston — 
Mrs.  Mattie  Edwards  Hewitt.  (Reproduced  by  Per- 
mission.) 


The 
Art  of  Landscape   Architecture 


INTRODUCTION 

HAVING  studied  carefully  the  works  and  the 
method  of  working  of  the  Creator,  the  de- 
signer of  a  landscape  can  bring  into  successful 
play  the  great  forces  of  nature,  and,  subordinating 
his  own  personality,  can  secure  for  his  work  an 
undying  vitality,  which  can  only  follow  from  such  a 
direct  reliance  on  the  resources  of  the  Infinite.  In 
every  difficult  work  the  key-note  of  success  lies,  of 
course,  in  the  idea  of  thorough  subordination;  but  it 
must  be  an  intelligent  penetrative  subordination,  an 
industrious,  ardently  artistic,  and  sleeplessly  active 
ministry  that  is  constantly  seeking  for  an  opportunity 
to  do  some  little  thing  to  help  forward  the  great  result 
on  which  nature  is  lavishing  its  powers  of  creation. " x 

1  Concerning  Lawn  Planting,  Calvert  Vaux. 

I 


2  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

"All  man's  activity  rests  upon  a  given  natural 
order;  his  work  can  only  succeed  when  it  strikes  out 
in  the  direction  prescribed  by  nature;  it  becomes 
empty  and  artificial  if  it  tries  to  sever  its  connexions 
or  to  act  in  opposition  to  nature/'1 

"Let  man  turn  where  he  will,  undertake  no  matter 
what,  he  will  ever  come  back  again  to  that  path  that 
nature  has  mapped  out  for  him. " 

When  Goethe  wrote  the  above  words  he  doubtless 
knew  Prince  Piickler's  great  work  on  landscape  garden- 
ing based  upon  his  treatment  of  his  estate  at  Muskau, 
for  he  has  left  on  record  a  most  appreciative  estimate  of 
Prince  Piickler's  ability  and  genius. 

As  he  paced  the  garden  walks  with  the  Prince  whose 
life  had  been  devoted  to  landscape-gardening  art,  the 
recollection  of  these  words  he  had  penned  would  have 
seemed  doubly  true  to  him.  Something  also  like  the 
quotation,  "Time  is  not  able  to  bring  forth  new  truths, 
but  only  an  unfolding  of  a  timeless  truth,"  may  well 
have  been  remarked  by  either  of  these  two  men,  when 
the  Prince  told  his  companion  his  experience  in  travel- 
ling in  many  countries.  How  he  had  found  the  best  in 
England,  and  yet  perhaps  quite  as  good  here  and  there, 
elsewhere,  and  how  everywhere  he  found  the  nearer  he 
kept  to  nature  the  nearer  he  was  to  the  true  ideal  of 
landscape  art.  We  can  imagine  his  relating  how  he 
revelled  in  an  old  rose  garden  of  Damascus  full  of 

1  Rudolph  Eucken's  Problem  of  Human  Life. 


Untrotwction  3 

grace  and  charm  and   thus   described  in  Eothen  by 
Kinglake: 

"Wild  as  the  highest  woodland  of  a  deserted 
home  in  England  is  the  sumptuous  Garden  of  Da- 
mascus. Forest  trees  tall  and  stately  enough,  if 
you  could  see  their  lofty  crests,  yet  lead  a  bustling 
life  of  it  below,  with  their  branches  struggling  against 
strong  numbers  of  bushes  and  wilful  shrubs.  The 
shade  upon  the  earth  is  black  as  night.  High,  high 
above  your  head,  and  on  every  side  down,  to  the 
ground,  the  thicket  is  hemmed  in  and  choked  up  by 
the  interlacing  boughs  that  droop  with  the  weight  of 
roses,  and  load  the  slow  air  with  their  damask  breath. 
The  rose  trees  which  I  saw  were  all  of  the  kind  we 
call  damask — they  grow  to  an  immense  height  and 
size.  There  are  no  other  flowers.  Here  and  there 
are  patches  of  ground  made  clear  from  the  cover  and 
these  are  either  carelessly  planted  with  some  common 
and  useful  vegetable,  or  left  free  to  the  wayward  ways 
of  nature,  and  bear  rank  weeds  moist  looking  and  cool 
to  your  eyes,  and  refreshing  the  sense  with  their 
earthy  and  bitter  fragrance.  There  is  a  lane  opened 
through  the  thicket,  so  broad  in  some  places  that  you 
can  pass  along  side  by  side — in  some  so  narrow  (the 
shrubs  are  for  ever  encroaching)  that  you  ought,  if 
you  can,  to  go  on  the  first,  and  hold  back  the  bough 
of  the  rose  tree.  And  through  this  wilderness  there 
tumbles  a  loud  rushing  stream,  which  is  halted  at  last 
in  the  lowest  corner  of  the  garden  and  then  tossed  up 


4  OLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

in  a  fountain  by  the  side  of  a  simple  alcove.  This 
is  all.  Never  for  an  instant  will  the  people  of  Damas- 
cus attempt  to  separate  the  idea  of  bliss  from  these 
wild  gardens  and  rushing  waters." 

At  the  same  time  Prince  Puckler  would  probably 
remark  on  the  trim  artificiality  and  formalism  of  Ver- 
sailles, and  of  even  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  which  many 
years  afterwards  Napoleon  III  asked  him  to  treat 
professionally. 

Forget  it  if  we  will,  and  despise  it  as  we  may,  in 
spite  of  our  seeking  after  the  striking  and  unusual,  there 
is  in  the  minds  of  most  of  us  an  instinctive  love  of  the 
natural  and  simple.  Often  as  we  go  about  our  duties 
and  pleasures,  there  are  bits  of  simple  natural  scenery 
which,  if  we  think  a  moment,  we  will  find  most  agree- 
able. These  sensations  are  not  necessarily  the  result 
of  special  knowledge.  We  like  these  scenes  because 
the  mind  is  constituted  to  like  them.  Doubtless,  more- 
over, this  appreciation  of  such  scenes  has  always  been 
consciously  or  unconsciously  felt  by  intelligent  beings 
whether  they  are  wild  or  cultivated,  provided  they  are 
not  merely  imitative,  that  is  provided  they  are  de- 
veloped on  natural  lines. 

"An  imitation  of  nature,  however  successful," 
says  Calvert  Vaux,  "is  not  art;  and  the  purpose 
to  imitate  nature,  or  to  produce  an  effect  which  shall 
seem  to  be  natural,  and  therefore  interesting,  is 
not  sufficient  for  success  in  the  art  of  lawn  planting, 
which  depends  on  a  happy  combination  of  many 


Untrofcuction  5 

circumstances  that  nature,  unassisted,  is  not  likely 
to  bring  about. " 


It  is  also  time  that  we  in  these  modern  days  learn  that 
we  have  not  been  the  first  to  develop  a  genuine  and 
sound  instinct  in  landscape  gardening.  The  Chinese 
had  it  highly  developed  in  their  own  peculiar  style 
2600  B.C.,  and  of  the  Japanese  the  same  may  be  said, 
although  their  ideas  are  different  and  not  so  old,  and  in 
a  way  not  so  original,  having  been  derived  from  China 
and  then  transfused  with  the  characteristic  Japanese 
genius.  They  have  that  quality  that  persistently  re- 
minds one  in  a  remote  and  miniature  way  of  the  best 
park  designs  of  all  countries. 

The  Hanging  Gardens  of  Nebuchadnezzar  are  an- 
other instance  of  this  ancient  love  of  nature.  They 
have  been  identified  by  explorers  and  found  to  be  of 
such  great  size,  as  shown  by  their  foundations,  that 
they  might  readily  support  a  replica  of  the  natural  hill 
or  mountain  which  the  monarch  is  said  to  have  had 
fashioned  at  the  whim  of  a  homesick  favourite  .who  he 
had  brought  from  Iran.  Also  in  the  garden  at  Damas- 
cus to-day  we  find  a  type  of  landscape  gardening  full  of 
natural  grace  and  charm  built  on  good  artistic  lines  of 
their  kind,  and  which,  in  accordance  with  the  unchange- 
able habit  of  the  East,  doubtless  differs  little  from  that 
of  the  Garden  of  Eden. 

The  primitive  ideas  of  the  savage  also  have  a  certain 
element  of  natural  charm  and  evince  fundamental  con- 
ceptions of  a  sort  of  landscape  gardening.  John  La 


6  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

Farge,  than  whom  no  one  had  a  keener  instinct  for  good 
art,  noted  this  during  his  visit  to  the  Fiji  Islands. 

All  through  the  Egyptian,  Greek,  and  Roman  times, 
however,  an  iron-bound,  rigid  theory  of  design  seems 
to  have  dominated  landscape  gardening.  Nero  and 
Pliny  could  and  did  locate  their  villas  in  romantic 
spots,  but  the  villas  themselves  were  designed  with 
grounds  about  them  artificial  and  stiff,  though  there 
were  in  some  instances  trees  and  shrubs  and  lawns  at 
a  little  distance  so  arranged  as  to  be  not  entirely  devoid 
of  the  charm  of  free  nature. 

"Moreover  Nero  turned  the  ruins  of  his  country  to 
his  private  advantage  and  built  a  house  the  orna- 
ments of  which  were  not  miracles  of  gems  and  gold, 
now  used  in  vulgar  luxuries,  but  lawns  and  lakes, 
and  after  the  manner  of  a  desert,  here  groves  and 
there  open  spaces  and  prospects;  the  masters  and 
centurions  being  Severus  and  Celer,  whose  genius 
and  boldness  could  attempt  by  Art  what  Nature  had 
denied  and  deceive  with  princely  force.  .  .  . 

"His  Golden  House,  in  a  park  stretching  from  the 
Palatine  to  the  heights  of  the  Esquiline,  was  on 
a  scale  of  more  than  oriental  magnificence.  At 
last  the  master  of  the  world  was  properly  lodged. 
With  colonnades  three  miles  long,  with  its  lakes 
and  pastures  and  sylvan  glades,  it  needed  only  a 
second  Nero  in  Otho  to  dream  of  adding  to  its 
splendour."  x 

1  Tacitus,  Ann.,  C.  31. 


Untrotwction  7 

"My  villa  is  so  advantageously  situated  that  it 
commands  a  full  view  of  all  the  country  round,  yet 
you  approach  it  by  so  insensible  a  rise  that  you  find 
yourself  upon  an  eminence  without  perceiving  you 
ascended."1 

Quoting  from  a  letter  of  Apollinaris  translated  by 
Sir  Henry  Wotton  the  following  words  are  used : 

"First  I  must  note  a  certain  contrariety  between 
building  and  gardening  for  as  Fabrics  should  be 
regular  so  Gardens  should  be  irregular,  or  at  least 
cast  in  a  very  wild  regularity.  To  exemplify  my 
conceit  I  have  seen  a  garden  in  a  manner,  perhaps, 
incomparable.  The  first  access  was  by  a  walk  like  a 
Terrace  from  whence  might  be  taken  a  general  view 
of  the  whole  plot  below;  but  rather  in  a  delightful 
confusion  than  with  any  plain  distinction  of  the 
pieces.  From  this  the  beholder  descending  many 
steps  was  afterwards  conveyed  again  by  several 
mountings  and  valings  to  various  entertainments  of 
his  sent  and  sight,  which  I  shall  not  need  to  describe 
for  that  were  poetical,  let  me  note  this,  that  everyone 
of  these  diversities  was  as  if  he  had  been  magically 
transported  into  a  new  garden." 

Down  through  the  middle  ages  the  classical  or  Roman 
spirit  of  formality  dominates  everything  that  can  be 
possibly  termed  landscape  gardening  until  the  arrival  of 
its  late  Renaissance  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

1  Pliny  the  Younger. 


8  3Lanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

It  is  a  strange  fact  that  about  this  time  (1690)  the 
Jesuit  Father  Attiret,  with  his  companion  missionaries 
working  in  China,  began  writing  home  about  the  won- 
derful gardens  in  that  country,  where  the  imitation  of 
nature  seemed  to  be  the  dominating  factor  of  their 
design.  The  Jesuit  Father  wrote  about  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  Sir  William  Chambers,  quot- 
ing him  in  1777,  says  that  in  one  of  the  Imperial  Gar- 
dens near  Pekin,  was  an  imitation  of  the  great  city  of 
Pekin,  and  thus  describes  their  landscape  gardening : 

"The  Chinese  Gardeners  very  seldom  finish  any  of 
their  walks  en  cul  de  Sac,  carefully  avoiding  all 
unpleasant  disappointments.  In  straight  roads  of 
smaller  dimension  the  Chinese  very  artfully  imitate 
the  irregular  workings  of  nature,  for  although  the 
general  direction  be  a  straight  line,  yet  they  carefully 
avoid  all  appearance  of  stiffness  or  formality  by  plant- 
ing some  of  the  trees  out  of  the  common  line;  by 
inclining  some  of  them  out  of  the  upright,  or  by 
employing  different  species  of  plants  and  placing 
them  at  irregular  distances,  with  their  borders 
sometimes  bare,  and  at  other  times  covered  with 
honeysuckle  and  sweet  briar,  or  surrounded  with 
underwood." 

Then,  just  as  the  same  idea  often  comes  to  several 
people  independently  and  without  the  knowledge  of 
the  other,  this  natural  style  of  landscape  gardening,  the 
true  art  as  now  fully  recognized,  suddenly  flowered. 


Untrobuction  9 

At  the  same  time  Koempfer  the  Dutch  botanist  and 
traveller  thus  wrote  home  about  Japanese  gardens: 

"A  Japanese  Garden  must  be  at  least  30  feet 
square  and  consist  of  the  following  essential  parts. 

"  ist :  The  ground  is  partly  covered  with  roundish 
stones — the  large  being  laid  in  the  middle  as  a  path 
to  walk  on  without  injuring  the  gravel,  the  whole  in 
a  seeming  but  ingenious  confusion. 

''2nd:  Some  few  flower  bearing  plants  planted 
confusedly  though  not  without  some  certain  rules. 
Amidst  the  plants  stands  sometimes  a  Saguer  as 
they  call  it,  a  strange  outlandish  tree,  sometimes 
a  dwarf  tree  or  two. 

"3rd:  A  small  rock  or  hill  in  the  corner  of  the 
garden  made  in  imitation  of  nature  curiously  adorned 
with  birds  and  insects  cast  in  brass  and  placed 
between  the  stones,  sometimes  the  model  of  a  temple 
stands  upon  it,  built,  as  for  the  sake  of  the  prospect 
they  generally  are,  on  a  remarkable  eminence  on  the 
borders  of  a  precipice.  Often  a  small  rivulet  runs 
down  the  stones  with  an  agreeable  noise,  the  whole  in 
due  proportion  and  as  nearly  as  possible  resembling 
nature. 

"4th:  A  small  bush  or  wood  on  the  side  of  the 
hill  for  which  the  gardeners  choose  such  trees  as 
will  grow  close  to  one  another  and  plant  and  cut 
them  according  to  their  largeness,  nature  and  the 
colour  of  their  flowers  and  leaves,  so  as  to  make  the 
whole  very  accurately  imitate  a  natural  wood  or  forest. 


io  Xanbscape  Hrcbitectute 

"5th :  A  cistern  or  pond  as  mentioned  above,  with 
alive  fish  kept  in  it  and  surrounded  with  proper 
plants,  that  is  such  as  love  the  watery  soil,  and 
would  lose  their  beauty  and  greenness  if  planted  on 
dry  ground.  It  is  a  particular  profession  to  lay  out 
these  gardens  and  keep  them  so  curiously  and  nicely 
as  they  ought  to  be.  Nor  doth  it  require  less  skill 
and  ingenuity  to  contrive  and  fit  out  the  rocks  and 
hills  above  mentioned. " 

Milton  a  little  earlier  wrote  a  description  of  the 
Garden  of  Eden  in  Paradise  Lost,  which  distinctly 
breathed  the  modern  spirit  of  art,  and  was  so  graphic 
that  Walter  Bagehot  asserts  that  "you  could  draw  a  map 
of  the  description. " 

Of  Eden,  where  delicious  Paradise, 

Now  nearer,  crowns  with  her  enclosure  green, 
As  with  a  rural  mound,  the  champain  head 

Of  a  steep  wilderness,  whose  hairy  sides 
With  thicket  overgown,  grotesque  and  wild, 

Access  denied;  and  overhead  up  grew 
Impenetrable  height  of  lofty  shade, 

Cedar,  and  Pine,  and  Fir,  and  branching  palm, 
A  sylvan  scene,  and,  as  the  ranks  ascend 

Shade  above  shade,  a  woody  theatre 
Of  stateliest  view.     Yet  higher  than  their  tops 

The  verdurous  wall  of  Paradise  upsprung. 

In  this  pleasant  soil 
His  far  more  pleasant  garden  God  ordained. 

•  *  »  *  .  **  • 

Flowers  worthy  of  Paradise  which  not  nice  Art 


A  Japanese  Garden. 
From  a  Photograph  by  Underwood  &  Underwood.     (Reproduced  by  Permission.) 


Untrofcuction  n 

In  beds  and  curious  knots,  but  Nature  boon 
Poured  forth  profuse  on  hill  and  dale  and  plain. 

A  happy  rural  seat  of  various  view: 
Groves  whose  rich  trees  wept  odorous  gums  and  balm. 

Betwixt  them  lawns,  or  level  downs,  and  flocks 
Grazing  the  tender  herb. 

Another  side,  umbrageous  grots  and  caves 

Of  cool  recess,  o'er  which  the  mantling  vine 

Lays  forth  her  purpling  grape,  and  gently  creeps 
Luxuriant;  meanwhile  murmuring  waters  fall 

Down  the  slope  hills  dispersed,  or  in  a  lake, 

That  to  the  fringed  bank  with  myrtle  crowned 

Her  crystal  mirror  holds,  unite  their  streams.1 

By  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  flower 
of  this  Renaissance  of  natural  landscape  gardening  was 
in  full  bloom.  Thomas  Whately,  who  died  in  1772, 
writes  thus: 

"The  English  in  such  a  situation  attempt  to  humour 
nature;  the  French  in  such  a  situation  attempt  to 
hide  her." 

And  Abbe  Delille  about  the  same  time  taught  as 
sound  ideas  of  the  art  as  could  be  found  in  the  most 
modern  books  on  the  subject : 

"Rapin  has  sung  Gardens  of  the  regular  style, 
and  the  monotony  attached  to  the  great  regularity 
has  passed  from  the  subject  to  the  poem.  The 

*  Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV. 


12  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

imagination  naturally  a  friend  to  liberty  here  walks 
painfully  in  the  involved  design  of  the  parterre,  anon 
expires  at  the  end  of  a  long  straight  alley.  Every- 
where it  regrets  the  slightly  disordered  beauty  and 
the  piquant  irregularity  of  Nature.  Finally  he  has 
only  treated  the  mechanical  part  of  the  art  of  Gar- 
dening; he  has  entirely  forgotten  the  most  essential 
part,  which  seeks  in  our  sensations,  in  our  feeling, 
the  source  of  the  pleasures  which  country  scenes 
and  the  beauties  of  nature  perfected  by  art  occasion. 
In  a  word  his  gardens  are  those  of  the  architect ;  the 
others  are  those  of  the  philosopher,  the  painter,  the 
poet."  . 

Horace  Walpole  declared  that  Mr.  Pope  undoubtedly 
contributed  to  form  Kent's  taste,  and  wrote  as  follows: 

"At  that  moment  appeared  Kent;  painter  enough 
to  taste  the  charms  of  landscape,  bold  and  opinion- 
ative  enough  to  dare  and  dictate,  and  born  with 
a  genius  to  strike  out  a  great  system  from  the  twi- 
light of  imperfect  essays.  He  leaped  the  fence  and 
saw  that  all  nature  was  a  garden.  He  felt  a  delicious 
contrast  of  hill  and  valley  changing  imperceptibly 
into  each  other,  tasted  the  beauty  of  the  gentle 
swell  and  concave  scoop,  and  remarks  how  loose 
groves  crowned  an  easy  eminence  with  happy  orna- 
ment, and  while  they  called  in  the  distant  view 
between  their  graceful  stems,  removed  and  extended 
the  perspective  by  delusive  comparison.  Thus  the 
pencil  of  his  imagination  bestowed  all  the  arts  of 


Introduction  13 

the  landscape  on  the  scenes  he  handled.  The  great 
principles  on  which  he  worked  were  perspective,  and 
light  and  shade.  Groups  of  trees  broke  too  uniform 
or  too  extensive  a  lawn ;  evergreens  and  woods  were 
opposed  to  the  glare  of  the  champaign,  and  where 
the  view  was  less  fortunate,  or  so  much  exposed  as  to 
be  beheld  at  once,  he  blotted  out  some  of  the  thick 
shades  to  divide  it  into  variety,  or  to  make  the  richest 
scene  more  enchanting  by  reserving  it  to  a  further 
advance  of  the  spectator's  step.  Thus  selecting 
favourite  objects,  and  veiling  deformities  by  screens 
of  plantations,  sometimes  allowing  the  crudest  waste 
to  add  its  foil  to  the  richest  theatre,  he  realized  the 
compositions  of  the  greatest  masters  in  painting. 
Where  objects  were  wanting  to  animate  his  horizon, 
his  taste  as  an  architect  would  bestow  immediate 
termination.  His  buildings,  his  seats,  and  his  temple 
were  more  the  work  of  his  pencil  than  his  com- 
passes. " 

These  landscape-gardening  authorities  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  had  an  influence  which  was  more  potent 
than  that  of  any  similar  authority  at  the  present  time. 
Naturally  there  were  fewer  places  in  a  smaller  popu- 
lation, but  comparatively  speaking,  people  apparently 
took  more  interest  in  their  country  places  then,  than 
they  do  now,  chiefly  perhaps  because  they  spent  a 
far  greater  portion  of  their  time  in  the  country,  and  had 
fewer  subjects  of  interest  elsewhere  and  less  facilities 
afforded  them  for  travelling  and  living  in  other  parts 


14  Xanfcscape  Brcbitecture 

of  the  globe.  It  was  moreover  a  great  literary  age,  and 
writers  and  poets  like  Pope,  Walpole,  Shenstone,  Gray, 
Cowper,  and  Addison  all  wrote  enthusiastically  and 
understandingly  on  landscape  gardening.  For  instance 
take  the  following  examples  from  Shenstone's  Essay  on 
Landscape  Gardening: 

"Ground  should  be  considered  with  a  view  to  its 
original  character  whether  it  be  the  grand,  the 
savage,  etc." 

"The  eye  should  follow  down  upon  the  water. " 

"No  straight  lines." 

"Vistas  should  look  natural,  a  kind  of  balance  in 
nature. " 

"Art  should  never  be  allowed  to  set  a  foot  in 
the  province  of  nature,  otherwise  than  clandestinely 
and  by  night. " 

"Hedges  appearing  as  such  are  universally  bad. 
They  discover  art  in  nature's  province." 

"Art  indeed  is  often  requisite  to  collect  and 
epitomize  the  beauties  of  nature,  but  should  never 
be  suffered  to  put  her  mark  on  them. " 

"In  gardening  it  is  no  small  matter  to  enforce 
either  grandeur  or  beauty  by  surprise, — for  instance, 
by  abrupt  transition  from  their  contraries, — but  to 
lay  stress  on  surprise  only,  for  example  on  the  surprise 
occasioned  by  a  ha-ha  (or  ditch),  without  including 
any  nobler  purpose  is  a  symptom  of  bad  taste  and  a 
violent  fondness  for  mere  concetto. " 

Another  authority  writes  that  Shenstone  allowed  the 


introduction  15 

charms  of  the  villa  to  overpower  those  of  the  furze 
and  rock  both  in  his  grounds  and  in  his  poems,  and  re- 
marks that  one  may  smile  at  the  following  lines: 

"But  oh!  the  transport  most  allied  to  song 

In  some  fair  villa's  peaceful  bound 
To  catch  soft  hints  from  Nature's  tongue 
And  bid  Arcadia  bloom  around." 

Alexander  Pope  says: 

"Consult  the  Genius  of  the  place  in  all." 
Delille  writes: 

"  Avant  tout,  connissez  votre  site  et  de  lieu  Adorez 
le  genie  et  consultez  le  Dieu." 

Joseph  Addison  in  The  Taller,  No.  218,  speaks  thus: 

"Writers  who  have  given  us  an  account  of  China 
tell  us  the  inhabitants  of  that  country  laugh  at  the 
plantations  of  our  Europeans,  which  are  laid  out 
by  the  rule  and  line;  because  they  say  any  one  may 
place  trees  in  equal  rows  and  uniform  figures.  They 
choose  rather  to  show  a  genius  in  works  of  this  nature, 
and  therefore  always  conceal  the  art  by  which  they 
direct  themselves.  They  have  a  word,  it  seems,  in 
their  language  by  which  they  express  the  particular 
beauty  of  a  plantation  that  thus  strikes  the  imagin- 
ation at  first  sight  without  discovering  what  it  is 
that  has  so  agreeable  an  effect." 

Montesquieu  in  his  Essay  on  Taste  has  this  to  say: 
"It  is  then  the  pleasure  which  an  object  gives 


1 6  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

to  us  which  carries  us  on  to  another;  it  is  for  this 
reason  that  the  soul  is  always  seeking  new  things  and 
is  never  at  rest.  Thus  you  will  always  be  able  to 
please  the  soul,  whenever  you  show  it  many  things, 
or  more  than  it  hoped  to  see. 

"In  this  way  may  be  explained  the  reason  why  we 
take  pleasure  in  seeing  a  perfectly  regular  garden, 
and  yet  are  pleased  to  see  a  wild  and  rural  spot;  the 
same  cause  produces  these  effects. 

"As  we  like  to  see  a  large  number  of  objects,  we 
would  wish  to  extend  our  view,  to  be  in  several 
places,  traverse  greater  space;  in  short  our  soul 
escapes  from  bounds,  and  wishes,  so  to  speak,  to 
widen  the  sphere  of  its  presence;  and  derives  great 
pleasure  from  a  distant  view.  But  how  to  effect  this? 
In  town  our  view  is  confused  by  houses,  in  the 
country  by  a  thousand  obstacles;  we  can  scarcely 
see  three  or  four  trees.  Art  comes  to  our  assistance 
and  discovers  to  us  nature  which  hides  itself; 
we  love  art  and  we  love  it  better  than  nature,  that  is 
nature  concealed  from  our  eyes;  but  when  we  find 
beautiful  situations,  when  our  unfettered  view  can 
see  in  the  distance  meadows,  streams,  hills,  and  these 
dispositions  are,  so  to  speak,  expressly  created,  it  is 
enchanted  otherwise  than  when  it  sees  the  gardens  of 
Le  Notre ;  because  nature  does  not  copy  itself,  whereas 
art  always  bears  its  own  likeness.  That  is  why  in 
painting  we  prefer  a  landscape  to  the  plan  of  the  most 
beautiful  garden  in  the  world,  it  is  because  painting 
only  chooses  nature  where  it  is  beautiful,  where  the 


flntrotwction  17 

sight  can  extend  to  a  distance  and  to  its  full  scope, 
where  it  is  varied,  where  it  can  be  viewed  with 
pleasure. " 

Most  of  the  prominent  men  of  the  day  were  pro- 
foundly and  intelligently  interested  in  landscape  garden- 
ing. Even  the  monarch  of  the  literary  world,  at  that 
time,  Doctor  Samuel  Johnson,  although  a  purely  city 
man,  hating  the  country,  was  obliged  to  pay  attention 
to  landscape  gardening  and  give  it  a  whimsical  and 
grudging  criticism  and  approval. 

France  in  a  less  degree,  in  the  midst  of  the  show 
and  display  of  its  decadent  civilization  doing  most  of  its 
landscape  gardening  after  the  style  of  Le  Notre,  still 
gave  this  Renaissance  of  landscape  gardening  a  pro- 
minent place  in  its  life.  Rousseau,  the  most  profound 
literary  influence  of  the  century,  made  the  spirit  of 
the  natural  style  the  dominant  note  in  his  philosophy, 
and  actually  inspired  the  Marquis  Girardon  to  create 
through  the  skill  of  M.  Morel  the  great  estate  of  Er- 
menouville,  a  well-known  example  of  the  modern 
development  of  the  art. 

Arthur  Young,  writing  at  the  time,  thus  describes 
this  place: 

"You  reach  Ermenouvelle  through  another  part  of 
the  Prince  of  Conde's  forest  which  joins  the  orna- 
mented grounds  of  the  Marquis  Girardon. 

"We  were  first  shown  that  which  is  so  famous 
for  the  small  Isle  of  Poplars,  in  which  reposes  all 
that  was  mortal  of  that  extraordinary  and  inimitable 


is  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

writer.  He  was  afterwards  moved  to  the  Pantheon. 
This  scene  is  as  well  imagined  and  well  executed  as 
could  be  wished.  The  water  is  between  forty  and 
fifty  acres;  hills  rise  from  it  on  both  sides,  and  it  is 
sufficiently  closed  in  at  both  ends  by  a  tall  wood 
to  render  it  sequestered.  The  remains  of  departed 
genius  stamp  a  melancholy  idea,  from  which  de- 
coration would  depart  too  much,  and  accordingly 
there  is  little.  We  viewed  the  scene  in  a  still  even- 
ing. The  declining  sun  threw  a  lengthened  shade  on 
the  lake  and  silence  seemed  to  repose  on  its  unruffled 
bosom;  as  some  poet  says,  I  forget  who. 

"The  other  lake  is  larger;  it  fills  the  bottom  of 
the  vale,  around  which  are  some  rough,  rocky,  wild, 
and  barren  sand  hills;  either  broken  or  spread  with 
heath ;  in  some  places  wooded,  and  in  others  scattered 
thinly  with  jumpers.  The  character  of  the  scene  is 
that  of  wild  undecorated  nature,  in  which  the  hand 
of  art  was  meant  to  be  concealed  as  much  as  was  con- 
sistent with  ease  of  access.  The  last  scene  is  that  of 
a  river,  which  is  made  to  wind  through  a  lawn,  reced- 
ing from  the  house,  and  broken  by  wood:  the  ground 
is  not  fortunate;  it  is  too  dead  a  flat,  and  nowhere 
viewed  to  much  advantage. " 

About  the  same  time  we  find  a  part  of  the  Versailles 
gardens  taking  on  the  new  form  under  the  name  of 
Petit  Trianon.  Of  this  work  Arthur  Young  writes : 

"To  Trianon  to  view  the  Queen's  Jardin  Anglais. 
I  had  a  letter  from  Mons.  Richard  which  procured 


Untrobuction  19 

admittance,  It  contains  about  100  acres  disposed 
in  the  taste  of  what  we  read  of  in  books  of  Chinese 
Gardening  whence  it  is  supposed  the  English  style 
was  taken.  There  is  more  of  Sir  William  Chambers 
here  than  of  Mr.  Brown,  more  effort  than  nature 
—and  more  expense  than  taste.  It  is  not  easy  to 
conceive  anything  that  art  can  introduce  in  a  garden 
that  is  not  here;  woods,  rocks,  lawns,  lakes,  rivers, 
islands,  grottoes,  walks,  temples,  and  even  villages. 
There  are  parts  of  the  design  very  pretty,  and  well 
executed.  The  only  fault  is  too  much  crowding; 
which  has  led  to  another,  that  of  cutting  the  lawn  by 
too  many  gravel  walks,  an  error  to  be  seen  in  almost 
every  garden  I  have  met  with  in  France." 

Abbe  Delille  did  his  share  in  advancing  the  new  ideas 
which  had  already  been  advocated  by  Pere  Huet  and 
Dufresny  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century 
before  Addison  or  any  of  the  English  critics  wrote  on 
the  subject. 

In  his  Huetiana  (1722)  Pierre  Daniel  Huet,  Bishop 
of  Avranches,  writes: 

"Although  natural  beauties  are  preferable  to 
artistic  ones,  that  is  not  the  taste  of  this  century. 
Nothing  pleases  that  is  not  costly.  A  fountain 
issuing  in  great  cascades  from  the  foot  of  a  rock 
tumbling  over  a  golden  sand,  the  clearest  and  freshest 
water  in  the  world  will  not  please  the  people  at  court 
as  much  as  a  jet  of  foetid  and  muddy  water  drawn  at 
enormous  cost  from  a  frog  marsh.  A  factitious 


20  3Lanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

parterre  composed  of  earth  brought  together  accord- 
ing to  the  plan  of  Monsieur  Le  Notre,  having  for  its 
whole  decoration  but  a  few  rows  of  box  which  never 
distinguish  the  seasons  by  change  of  colour,  sur- 
rounded by  vast  sanded  alleys,  very  compact  and 
very  bare ;  such  a  parterre  forms  the  delight  of  polite 
society.  It  leaves  to  small  cits  and  peasants  this 
rustic  lawn,  this  rural  turf.  It  requires  palisades 
erected  with  the  line,  and  at  the  point  of  the  shears. 
The  green  shades  of  those  tufted  birches  and  of  those 
great  oaks  which  were  found  at  the  birth  of  time  are 
in  bad  taste  and  worthy  of  the  grossness  of  our  fathers. 
Is  not  to  think  thus  to  prefer  a  painted  face  to  the 
natural  colour  of  a  beautiful  countenance? 

"  Paint  on  one  side  a  fashionable  garden  and  on 
the  other  one  of  those  beautiful  landscapes  in  which 
nature  spreads  her  riches  undisguised;  one  will 
present  a  very  tedious  object,  the  other  will  charm 
you  by  its  delight.  You  will  be  tired  of  one  at  first 
glance,  you  will  never  weary  of  looking  at  the  other, 
such  is  the  force  of  nature  to  make  itself  beloved  in 
spite  of  the  pilferings  and  deceits  of  art. 

"I  have  no  more  approval  of  the  gardens  in  fashion 
than  for  iron  screens  (Clairvoies)." 

Of  Charles  Dufresny,  1648-1724,  natural  son  of  Henry 
IV  and  a  gardener's  daughter,  soi-disant  rival  of  Le 
Notre,  creator  of  the  gardens  of  Mignaux  near  Poissy 
and  of  the  Abbe  Pajot  near  Vincennes,  a  writer  says : 

"The  first  indications  of  the  Jesuits  of  Chinese 


flntrofcuction  21 

gardens  (1690)  had  struck  his  ardent  and  para- 
doxical imagination.  He  loved  to  work  upon  an 
unequal  and  irregular  ground  (Alphana).  He 
wanted  obstacles  to  overcome,  if  there  were  none. 
He  raised  a  mountain  on  a  plain.  His  style  had 
something  of  the  modern  English  manner,  but  his 
projects  were  rarely  carried  into  execution.  Gabriel 
Thouin  asserts  (Plans  raisonnee)  that  the  first  ex- 
ample of  modern  landscape  gardening  was  given 
by  Dufresny  in  the  Fauborg  St.  Antoine.  Du- 
fresny  was  a  man  of  'ideas,'  one  of  which  Montes- 
quieu adopted  in  his  Lettres  de  Paysannes. " 

If  Louis  XIV  had  not  thought  the  plans  Dufresny 
made  for  Versailles  too  expensive  we  might  have  had 
something  very  different  in  spirit  from  that  of  Le 
Notre's  final  development. 

In  Germany  about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century  we  find  Hirschfeld  who  exhibits  a  knowledge 
of  the  natural  style  and  quotes  predecessors  who  have 
the  same  feelings.  It  is  wonderful  how  quickly  a  new 
and  striking  phase  of  art  will  all  at  once  bud  and  come 
into  full  flower.  The  germ  of  the  idea  may  be  almost 
silently  developing  at  a  much  earlier  date  as  in  the  case 
of  Milton  and  Pere  Huet,  but  the  actual  flower  of 
modern  landscape  gardening  appears  only  in  its  full 
beauty  and  perfection  of  artistic  development  in  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  the  works  of 
Kent,  Brown,  and  Humphrey  Repton  and  soon  after- 
ward of  Prince  Puckler  von  Muskau. 


22  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

Andrew  Jackson   Downing  writes  in    1844,   in  his 
work  on  landscape  gardening: 

"Brown  seems  to  have  been  a  mannerist  with  so 
little  true  sympathy  with  nature  as  to  be  the  jest  of 
every  succeeding  generation — great  and  fashionable 
as  the  fortune  he  amassed  and  the  long  list  of  royal 
and  noble  places  which  he  remodelled  sufficiently 
prove  him  to  have  been  in  his  day.  'Capability 
Brown,'  as  he  was  nicknamed,  saw  in  every  new 
place  great  capabilities,  but  unfortunately  his  own 
mind  seems  to  have  furnished  but  one  model — a 
round  lake,  a  smooth  bare  lawn,  a  clump  of  trees,  and 
a  boundary  belt — which  he  expanded  with  few  varia- 
tions, to  suit  the  compass  of  an  estate  of  a  thousand 
acres,  or  a  cottage  with  a  few  roods. " 

Loudon  says : 

"The  places  he  altered  are  beyond  all  reckoning. 
Improvement  was  the  fashion  of  the  time,  and  there 
was  scarcely  a  country  gentleman  who  did  not,  on 
some  occasion  or  other,  consult  the  gardening  idol 
of  the  day.  Mason  the  poet  praises  this  artist  and 
Horace  Walpole  apologizes  for  not  praising  him." 

Here  are  some  wise  and  sensible  remarks  found  in 
the  writings  of  Humphrey  Repton,  about  1797: 

"If  it  should  appear  that,  instead  of  displaying 
new  doctrines  or  furnishing  novel  ideas,  this  volume 
serves  rather  by  a  new  method  to  elucidate  old 


fntrotwction  23 

established  principles,  and  to  confirm  long  received 
opinions,  I  can  only  plead  in  my  excuse  that  true 
taste,  in  every  art,  consists  more  in  adapting  tried 
expedients  to  peculiar  circumstances  than  in  that 
inordinate  thirst  after  novelty,  the  characteristic  of 
uncultivated  minds,  which  from  the  facility  of  in- 
venting wild  theories,  without  experience,  are  apt 
to  suppose  that  taste  is  displayed  by  novelty,  genius 
by  innovation,  and  that  every  change  must  neces- 
sarily tend  to  improvement. " 

There  may  have  been  less  perfection  and  variety  of 
finish  in  the  use  of  trees  and  shrubs  and  flowers,  and  of 
other  details  of  the  garden  and  lawn,  but  the  actual  art 
work,  the  design,  is  hardly  finer  to-day  than  in  the  days 
of  Repton  and  Prince  Puckler.  It  might  be  well  to  note 
here  that  it  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  a  superior  know- 
ledge of  plants  gives  a  paramount  advantage  to  the 
landscape  gardener.  His  main  strength  should  pri- 
marily lie  in  the  exercise  of  the  actual  art,  in  the  ability 
to  design  a  park  or  country  place  on  principles  funda- 
mental and  long  recognized;  this  is  where  the  highest 
genius  of  landscape  gardening  should  find  scope. 

Repton  died  in  1818,  and  in  England  he  has  had  no 
successor  who  has  conquered  such  a  comparatively  wide 
area  of  practice  and  such  universal  acceptance  as  an 
authority.  J.  C.  Loudon  and  Wm.  Robinson  have  each 
contributed  in  their  own  way  much  to  the  adoption  of 
sound  views  in  landscape  gardening.  The  same  state- 
ment applies  to  Andrew  J.  Downing,  and  to  F.  L.  Olm- 


24  Xan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

sted  and  Calvert  Vaux  to  whom  America  owes  Central 
Park  in  New  York,  the  finest  example  of  park-making 
in  the  world.  The  French  are  great  gardeners,  and  of 
landscape  gardening  principles  and  lore  Edouard 
Andre  is  a  worthy  and  competent  exponent,  but 
although  the  French  generally  make  their  parks  nowa- 
days in  what  is  called  the  English  style,  which  is  really 
only  what  is  recognized  as  good  landscape  gardening 
the  world  over,  yet  in  spite  of  all,  they  sometimes  allow 
themselves  to  instinctively  recall  Le  Notre  and  Ver- 
sailles in  their  designs  of  parks  and  estates. 
Victor  Hugo  writes  in  Odes  and  Ballads: 

"Thought  is  a  fruitful  and  virgin  soil,  whose 
products  must  insist  on  growing  in  freedom,  and, 
so  to  speak,  by  chance,  without  arrangement,  with- 
out being  drilled  into  knots  in  one  of  Le  Notre 's  classi- 
cal gardens,  or  the  flowers  of  language  in  a  treatise 
on  rhetoric.  Let  it  not,  however,  be  supposed  that 
this  freedom  must  beget  disorder;  quite  the  reverse. 
Let  us  expand  our  idea.  Compare  for  an  instant  a 
royal  garden  of  Versailles,  well  levelled,  well  kept, 
well  swept,  well  raked,  well  gravelled,  quite  full  of 
little  cascades,  little  basins,  little  groves,  bronze 
tritons  in  ceremonious  dalliance  with  oceans  pumped 
up  at  great  cost  from  the  Seine,  marble  fauns  woo- 
ing dryads  allegorically  imprisoned  in  multitudes  of 
conical  yews,  cylindrical  laurels,  spherical  orange 
trees,  elliptical  myrtles,  and  other  trees  whose  natural 
form,  too  trivial  no  doubt,  has  been  gracefully  cor- 


Untrofcuctton  25 

rected  by  the  gardener's  shears;  compare  this  garden, 
so  extolled,  with  a  primitive  forest  of  the  New  World 
with  its  giant  trees,  its  tall  grasses,  its  deep  vegetation, 
its  thousand  buds  of  a  thousand  hues,  its  broad 
avenues,  where  light  and  shadow  play  only  upon 
the  verdure,  its  wild  harmonies,  its  great  rivers 
which  drift  along  islands  of  flowers,  its  stupendous 
waterfalls,  over  which  hover  rainbows.  We  will 
not  say,  Where  is  the  magnificence?  Where  is  the 
grandeur?  Where  is  the  beauty?  But  simply, 
Where  is  the  order?  Where  is  the  disorder? 

"In  one,  fountains,  imprisoned,  or  diverted  from 
their  course,  gush  from  petrified  Gods,  only  to  stag- 
nate :  trees  are  transplanted  from  their  native  soil,  torn 
away  from  their  climate  and  forced  to  submit  to  the 
grotesque  caprices  of  the  shears  and  line:  in  a  word 
natural  order  everywhere  contradicted,  inverted, 
upset,  destroyed.  In  the  other  on  the  contrary, 
all  obeys  an  unchangeable  law,  in  all  a  God  seems  to 
dwell.  Drops  of  water  follow  their  course  and  form 
rivers,  which  will  form  seas:  seeds  choose  their  soil 
and  produce  a  forest.  The  very  bramble  is  beautiful 
there.  Again  we  ask,  where  is  the  order?  Choose 
then  between  the  masterpiece  of  gardening  and  the 
work  of  nature ;  between  what  is  conventionally  beau- 
tiful, and  what  is  beautiful  without  rule ;  between  an 
artificial  literature  and  an  original  poesy. " 

There  is  much  truth  in  these  words  as  well  as  ex- 
travagance.     Victor  Hugo  is   thinking  too  much  of 


26  OLan&scape  Hrcbttecture 

the  primitive  forest,  which  should  not  be  altogether 
the  model  as  will  be  shown  hereafter.  Many  of  the 
French  and  Italian  designs  even  at  the  present  time 
strike  a  formal,  artificial  note  in  their  most  natural- 
looking  conceptions.  They  make  their  curves  so  true 
and  neat;  there  is  too  much  artifice,  and  not  enough 
suggestion  or  mystery,  and  mystery  should  form  a  part 
of  nearly  all  landscape  gardening  in  order  to  secure  the 
highest  kind  of  pleasure.  The  Germans  and  English 
and  some  other  nations  do  excellent  landscape  garden- 
ing, but  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  present  age  is  quite 
keeping  up  to  the  old  standard  of  the  art.  Love  of 
perfection  in  detail  of  tree  and  shrub  and  flowers  has 
led  many  to  forget  or  overlook  fundamental  principles 
as  practised  by  the  great  masters  of  the  profession. 
Certainly  there  is  no  landscape  gardening  of  the  present 
day  that  surpasses  in  fundamentals,  if  it  equals,  that 
done  by  Prince  Ludwig  Heinrich  Herman  Piickler  on  his 
estate  of  Muskau  in  southern  Germany  nearly  a  hundred 
years  ago.  In  support  of  this  statement  I  am  sure  I  may 
be  allowed  to  quote  the  authority  of  a  landscape  archi- 
tect, the  late  Chas.  Eliot,  than  whom  there  has  been  in 
modern  times  no  better  writer  anywhere  on  the  principles 
of  landscape  gardening  if  we  perhaps  except  A.  J.  Down- 
ing and  the  distinguished  artists  Frederick  Law  Olmsted 
and  Calvert  Vaux,  creators  of  Central  Park,  New  York. 
Mr.  Eliot  writes  that  Prince  Puckler  undertook: 

"Nothing  less  than  the  transformation  of  the  al- 
most ugly  valley  of  the  Niesse  into  a  vale  of  beauty 


fntrofcuctfon  27 

and  delight;  and  the  fact  that  he  proposed  to  ac- 
complish this  transformation  not  by  extending 
architectural  works  throughout  the  valley,  not  by 
constructing  mighty  terraces,  mile-long  avenues,  or 
great  formal  water  basins,  such  as  he  had  seen  in 
Italy,  at  Versailles,  and  at  Wilhelmshohe — but  by 
quietly  inducing  nature  to  transform  herself.  He 
would  not  force  upon  his  native  landscape  any 
foreign  type  of  beauty;  on  the  contrary,  his  aim  was 
the  transfiguration,  the  idealization  of  such  beauty  as 
was  indigenous.  He  was  intent  upon  evolving 
from  out  of  the  confused  natural  situation  a  com- 
position in  which,  all  that  was  fundamentally 
characteristic  of  the  scenery,  the  history  and  in- 
dustry of  his  estate  should  be  harmoniously  and 
beautifully  united. 

"One  circumstance  greatly  favoured  the  happy 
accomplishment  of  his  design — namely,  the  very 
fact  that  he  had  to  do  with  a  valley  and  not 
with  a  plain  or  plateau.  The  irregularly  rising 
land  skirting  the  river-levels  supplied  a  frame 
for  his  picture:  the  considerable  stream,  flowing 
through  the  midst  of  the  level,  with  here  and  there 
a  sweep  toward  the  enclosing  hills,  became  the  all- 
connecting  and  controlling  element  in  his  landscape. 
Well  he  knew  that  what  artists  call  'breadth* 
and  'unity  of  effect'  was  fully  assured  if  only  he 
abstained  from  inserting  impertinent  structures  or 
other  objects  in  the  midst  of  this  hill  bounded 
intervale. " 


28  3lant>scape  Hrcbttecture 

The  river  scenes  of  Muskau  were  changed  with  great 
effect  by  diverting  an  arm  of  the  main  line  to  another 
course  leading  a  long  distance  around  by  the  castle, 
enlarging  the  moat  (see  illustration),  and  so  flowing 
on  through  several  pools  to  the  end  of  the  artificial  water 
far  above  where  it  again  takes  the  main  and  original 
direction  as  shown  in  the  illustration.  To-day  it  all 
looks,  not  only  natural,  but  as  if  it  had  never  been 
otherwise. 

Another  plea  for  the  natural  style  will  be  found  in 
Olmsted  and  Vaux's  Annual  Report  to  the  Prospect 
Park  Commissioners,  January,  1871: 

"As  the  park  has  come  more  in  use,  new  habits 
and  customs  and  with  them  new  tastes  have  been 
developed.  There  is  already  many  times  as  much 
pleasure  driving  as  there  was  five  years  ago,  and  not 
a  few  persons  are  more  attracted  to  the  park  by  what 
is  to  be  seen  on  the  road,  than  by  any  conscious 
enjoyment  of  inanimate  nature  to  be  seen  from  it, 
consequently  a  new  class  of  comment  on  the  design 
is  now  sometimes  heard:  unfavourable  comparisons 
are  made  between  the  park  [Prospect  Park]  and  cer- 
tain foreign  pleasure  grounds,  both  for  the  lack  of 
opportunity  for  enjoying  the  sight  of  a  large  gay 
assemblage,  and  its  entire  want  of  stateliness  and 
artistic  grandeur.  In  these  comparisons  and  in  the 
demands  which  they  suggest  there  are  important 
considerations  which  are  generally  overlooked. 

"In  southern  Europe  where  the  ground  is  parched, 


Untrofcuction  29 

and  turf  and  delicate  low  foliage  wither  unless 
carefully  and  laboriously  watered  and  tended ;  where 
also,  in  most  cases,  rambling  in  the  country  or  beyond 
the  outskirts  of  towns  is  not  only  toilsome  but 
dangerous ;  where  ladies  seldom  go  out-of-doors  until 
after  sunset  and  then  closely  veiled,  and  where  the 
people  look  for  amusement  almost  exclusively  to 
social  excitements,  public  pleasure  grounds  have 
usually  been  important  chiefly  as  places  of  rendevous 
and  general  congregation.  Their  plans  have  been 
characterized  by  formal  and  stately  plantations  and 
much  architectural  and  floral  decoration.  Where 
anything  like  landscape  effects  have  been  attempted 
to  be  added  to  these,  it  has  generally  been  not  as  a 
temptation  to  exercise,  but  simply  as  a  picture,  usu- 
ally of  a  romantic  and  often  of  a  distinctly  theatrical 
character.  The  primary  and  avowed  object  of  such 
grounds  is  to  supply  people  with  accommodation  for 
coming  together  to  see  one  another,  not  merely  as 
personal  acquaintances,  but  as  an  assemblage. 

"The  style  of  laying  out  grounds  adapted  to  this 
purpose  has,  till  recently  at  least,  prevailed,  not  only 
in  Italy,  Spain,  and  Portugal,  but  throughout  France, 
and  where  French  influence  has  been  strong  the  woods 
and  lawns  of  both  public  and  private  parks  and  chases 
are  nearly  always  traversed  by  straight  avenues, 
with  well  defined  circular  carrefours,  often  empha- 
sized by  architectural  objects  at  their  points  of 
junction,  as  may  be  seen  at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne. 
While,  however,  the  custom  of  outdoor  assemblage 


30  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

and  of  the  promenade  for  recreation  has  even  become 
far  more  important,  a  tendency  to  a  different  style 
in  the  preparation  of  pleasure  grounds  has  been 
growing  wherever  the  climate  admits  of  its  being 
adapted  with  success.  The  changes  made  in  the  plan 
of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  under  the  late  Empire 
(partly  under  the  advisement  of  Prince  Puckler), 
those  also  in  the  Bois  de  Vincennes,  the  Pare  Mon- 
ceau,  and  other  grounds  in  France,  and  the  plan  of 
the  new  park  at  Brussels,  all  show  progress  in  this 
direction,  though  the  liking  for  detached  scenic 
effects  which  might  be  suitable  for  framing,  or  for 
the  background  of  a  ballet,  still  influences  most 
landscape  work. 

"  It  is  to  be  observed,  too,  that  on  the  completion  of 
the  Avenue  de  I'lmperatrice  as  an  approach  to  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  of  the  narrow  informal  drive 
around  the  lake  with  its  various  landscape  effects, 
that  the  part  of  this  system  of  pleasure  grounds 
which  is  laid  out  in  the  natural  style  was  immediately 
adopted  as  the  daylight  promenade  ground  of  Paris 
in  preference  to  the  much  wider,  more  accessible,  more 
stately,  and  in  every  way  more  convenient  and  mag- 
nificent avenue  of  the  Champs  Elysees. 

"It  will  be  thus  seen  that  the  grander  and  more 
splendid  style  of  public  pleasure  grounds,  while  it  is 
peculiarly  adapted  to  display  a  great  body  of  well 
dressed  people  and  of  equipages  to  advantage,  and  is 
most  fitting  for  processions,  pomps,  and  ceremonies, 
while  also  it  seems  admirably  to  extend  and  soften 


Untrofcuction  31 

architectural  perspectives  and  to  echo  and  supple- 
ment architectural  grandeur,  is  not  preferred  where 
there  are  moderate  advantages  for  the  adoption 
of  a  natural  style,  even  for  the  purposes  of  a  prom- 
enade. The  reason  may  be  that  where  carriages  are 
used  in  the  frequent  passing  over  of  long  spaces  of 
bare  surface  which  they  make  necessary,  formal 
arrangements  and  confined  scenes  become  very  tire- 
some. In  passing  along  a  curving  road,  its  borders 
planted  irregularly,  the  play  of  light  and  shade  and 
the  succession  of  objects  more  or  less  distinct  which 
are  disclosed  and  obscured  in  succession  is  never 
wholly  without  interest,  while  an  agreeable  open 
landscape  is  always  refreshing  in  contrast  to  the 
habitual  confinement  of  the  city." 

It  is  evident  therefore  that  in  entering  on  the  con- 
sideration of  the  principles  and  practice  of  landscape 
gardening  it  is  well  to  keep  in  mind  that  we  are,  if  we 
are  doing  good  work,  not  undertaking  new  artistic 
endeavour,  but  following  lines  literally  as  old  as  the 
hills.  Practical  everyday  studies  of  nature  are  what 
are  needed.  All  the  references  made  confirm  this  view. 
Authorities  are  often  indeed  illuminating  and  have 
great  value;  not  only  to  inform  the  student,  but  to 
stimulate  to  further  study  in  the  right  direction,  and  to 
suggest  where  to  find  new  material  for  study.  Books  of 
any  kind,  however,  can  be  no  more  than  helps  in  the 
right  direction,  for  practical  experience  and  the  study 
of  nature  in  park  and  garden  and  diversified  woodland 


32  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

and  meadow  and  water  should  be  considered  of  first 
importance,  and  good  examples  of  such  work  continu- 
ally sought.  Turner  and  Claude  found  it  of  the  great- 
est value  for  their  painting  to  make  thousands  of 
sketches  of  trees  and  other  natural  objects;  how  much 
more  should  the  student  of  landscape  gardening  find 
advantage  in  studying  the  appearance  and  habits  of 
trees  and  shrubs  and  their  best  arrangement  when 
composed  in  a  park  picture,  and  this  picture  or  design 
should  be  when  worked  out  idealized  and  transfused 
with  genuine  feeling  for  nature  after  the  same  fashion 
as  the  work  of  Claude.  It  is  above  all  necessary  to 
learn  how  nature  treats  her  trees  and  shrubs,  her  hill- 
sides and  meadows,  and  her  features  of  island  and 
water.  If  one  gives  oneself  to  the  study  of  examples 
of  these  effects  in  nature  it  will  become  fascinating, 
and  the  freshness  of  conceptions  of  endless  combinations 
which  continually  meet  the  eye  will  lead  one  to  be  ever 
seeking  to  solve  new  problems  and  learning  to  study 
new  lessons  of  a  similar  kind  in  landscape  gardening. 

Excellent,  however,  and  all-important  as  this  con- 
tinual reference  to  nature  is  in  landscape-gardening 
studies,  it  is  quite  as  important  to  learn  all  about  the 
habits  of  plants,  the  quality  and  treatment  of  soil,  and, 
above  all,  how  to  fit  the  new  into  the  old.  On  nearly 
every  place  there  are  some  agreeable  natural  features 
that  deserve  preservation  and  the  best  effect  should 
not  be  injured  by  any  new  elements  that  may  be 
introduced.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  is  the  case,  but  it 
is  a  difficult  proposition  to  manage  to  introduce  the  new 


Introduction  33 

arrangement  without  in  some  way  destroying  the  fine 
quality  of  the  old,  natural  beauty. 

The  success  of  the  problem  of  the  proper  disposition 
and  location  of  gardens  and  decorations  adjoining  the 
house  or  other  buildings  largely  depends  on  the  success- 
ful blending  of  the  natural  forms,  whether  old  or  new, 
with  the  strictly  architectural  conceptions.  This  is 
probably  one  of  the  most  difficult  undertakings  in  the 
whole  province  of  the  art  of  landscape  gardening. 
There  are  many  details  which  need  to  be  studied  in 
order  to  enable  a  student  to  solve  landscape  gardening 
problems,  but  this  perhaps  is  the  most  difficult  one. 

Thomas  Whately  says: 

"These  mischiefs,  however,  were  occasioned,  not 
by  the  use  but  the  perversion  of  art;  it  excluded 
instead  of  improving  upon  nature,  and  thereby  de- 
stroyed the  very  end  it  was  called  in  to  promote. 
So  strange  an  abuse  probably  arose  from  an  idea 
of  some  necessary  correspondence  between  the  man- 
sion, and  the  scene  it  immediately  commanded;  the 
forms  therefore  of  both  were  determined  by  the 
same  rules;  and  terraces,  canals,  and  avenues  were 
but  so  many  variations  of  the  plan  of  the  building. 
The  regularity  thus  established  spread  afterwards  to 
more  distant  quarters ;  there  indeed  the  absurdity  was 
acknowledged,  as  soon  as  a  more  natural  disposition 
appeared,  but  a  prejudice  in  favour  of  art,  as  it  is 
called,  just  about  the  house  still  remains.  If,  by  the 
term,  regularity  is  intended  the  principle  is  equally 


34  Slan&scape  Hrcbttecture 

applicable  to  the  vicinity  of  any  other  building;  and 
every  temple  in  the  garden  ought  to  have  its  concomi- 
tant formal  slopes  and  plantations,  or  the  conformity 
may  be  reversed,  and  we  may  reasonably  contend 
that  the  building  ought  to  be  irregular,  in  order  to  be 
consistent  with  the  scene  it  belongs  to.  The  truth  is 
that  both  propositions  are  erroneous,  architecture  re- 
quires symmetry ;  the  objects  of  nature  freedom ;  and 
the  properties  of  the  one  cannot  with  justice  be  trans- 
ferred to  the  other.  But  if  by  the  term  no  more  is 
meant  than  merely  design  the  dispute  is  at  an  end; 
choice,  arrangement,  composition,  improvement,  and 
preservation  are  so  many  symptoms  of  art,  which 
may  occasionally  appear  in  several  parts  of  a  garden, 
but  ought  to  be  displayed  without  reserve  near  the 
house ;  nothing  there  should  be  neglected ;  it  is  a  scene 
of  the  most  cultivated  nature;  it  ought  to  be  en- 
riched; it  ought  to  be  adorned;  and  design  may  be 
avowed  in  the  plan,  and  expense  in  the  execution. 
Even  irregularity  is  not  excluded ;  so  capital  a  struc- 
ture may  extend  its  influence  beyond  its  walls,  but 
its  power  should  be  exercised  only  over  its  immediate 
appendages;  the  flat  form  upon  which  the  house 
stands  is  generally  continued  to  a  certain  breadth 
from  every  side;  and  whether  it  be  pavement  or 
gravel  may  undoubtedly  coincide  with  the  shape  of 
the  building.  The  road  which  leads  up  to  the  door 
may  go  off  from  it  in  an  equal  angle,  so  that  the  two 
sides  shall  exactly  correspond:  and  certain  orna- 
ments, though  detached,  are  rather  within  the  pro- 


fntrotwction  35 

vince  of  the  architecture  than  of  gardening:  works 
of  sculpture  are  not  like  buildings,  objects  familiar  in 
scenes  of  cultivated  nature;  but  vases,  statues,  and 
termini  are  usual  appendages  to  a  considerable  ed- 
ifice; as  such  they  may  attend  the  mansion,  and 
trespass  a  little  upon  the  garden,  provided  they  are 
not  carried  so  far  in  it  as  to  lose  their  connection  with 
the  structure.  The  flat  form  and  the  road  are  also 
appurtenances  to  the  house;  all  these  may  therefore 
be  adapted  to  its  form,  and  the  environs  will  thereby 
acquire  a  degree  of  regularity;  but  to  give  it  to  the 
objects  of  nature,  only  on  account  of  their  proximity 
to  others  which  are  calculated  to  receive  it,  is,  at 
best,  a  refinement. " 

Price  thought  the  principles  of  Claude  should  be 
followed  as  a  guide.  Lord  Windham,  in  a  letter  to 
Humphrey  Rep  ton,  asks  very  pertinently: 

"Does  the  pleasure  we  receive  from  the  view  of 
parks  and  gardens  result  from  their  affording  sub- 
jects that  would  appear  to  advantage  in  a  picture?" 
and  answers,  "That  places  are  not  to  be  laid  out  with 
a  view  to  their  appearance  in  a  picture,  but  to  the 
use  and  enjoyment  of  them  in  real  life." 

This  is  true  in  the  sense  that  the  aims  of  the  designs 
of  the  painter  and  the  landscape  gardener  cannot  be 
said  to  be  identical  nor  that  the  position  of  a  tree  well 
placed  on  the  lawn  would  necessarily  be  suited  to  the 
design  of  the  painted  picture.  It  should  be  enough  to 


36  %anbscape  Ercbitecture 

say,  however,  that  the  purposes  of  the  designs  of  both 
painter  and  landscape  gardener  are  analogous,  they 
travel  on  similar  and  more  or  less  parallel  lines,  and 
both  should  look  reverently  to  nature  as  their  sole 
mistress. 

Loudon  justly  observes  that: 

"The  recognition  of  art  is  a  first  principle  in 
landscape  gardening,  as  in  all  other  arts,  and  those 
of  its  professors  have  erred  who  supposed  that  the 
object  of  this  art  is  merely  to  produce  a  facsimile  of 
nature  that  could  not  be  distinguished  from  a  wild 
scene. " 

Mr.  F.  L.  Olmsted  recognized  the  justice  of  this 
when  he  wrote  in  the  Spoils  of  the  Park: 

"What  artist  so  noble  as  he,  who  with  far-reach- 
ing conception  of  beauty  and  designing  power, 
sketches  the  outlines,  writes  the  colours,  and  directs 
the  shadows  of  a  picture  so  great  that  nature  shall  be 
employed  on  it  for  generations,  before  the  work  he 
has  arranged  for  her  shall  realize  his  intentions. " 

There  has  appeared  a  species  of  "natural**  landscape 
gardening  in  the  nineteenth  century  that  is,  to  say  the 
least,  slightly  specious  and  meretricious  in  its  effect, 
and  there  is  today  even  more  than  a  suspicion  of  a 
tendency  to  yield  to  this  desire  to  make  the  art  of  land- 
scape gardening  fine  and  exquisite  rather  than  simple 
and  natural. 


Introduction  37 

M.  Edouard  Andre,  who  has  been  called  the  "most 
judicious  and  successful  exponent  of  landscape  garden- 
ing in  France"  by  a  high  authority,  writes  thus: 

"Under  the  false  pretext  that  lawns,  waters,  trees, 
and  flowers  are  always  pleasant,  they  have  substi- 
tuted for  the  old  geometrical  garden  a  still  more  arti- 
ficial style.  The  former  at  least  avowed  its  aim  to 
show  the  hand  of  man  and  to  master  nature.  The 
latter  borrows  the  elements  of  nature,  and  under  the 
pretence  of  imitating  it,  makes  it  play  a  ridiculous 
— I  was  going  to  say  an  effeminate — part.  It  is  not 
— we  say  it  emphatically — it  is  not  this  that  consti- 
tutes landscape  art.  If  art  seeks  means  of  action  in 
nature,  it  is  in  order  to  turn  them  to  account  in  a 
simple  and  noble  way." 

Mr.  Olmsted  in  his  Spoils  of  the  Park  further  says : 

"In  Paris  this  kind  of  'natural'  gardening  re- 
ceived a  great  impetus  in  the  days  of  Napoleon 
III  because  of  the  striking  and  spectacular  effects 
it  quickly  produced  by  the  profuse  use  of  certain 
novel,  exotic,  and  sickly  forms  of  vegetation. " 

Unfortunately  this  style  of  landscape  gardening  per- 
sists more  than  it  should  down  to  the  present  day  in 
Paris,  and  elsewhere  in  France,  and  for  that  matter 
in  all  the  principal  capitals  of  Europe. 

In  view  of  the  great  body  of  doctrine  set  forth  in  the 
following  pages  it  will  be  evident  that  there  should  be 


38  3Lanfcscape  Ercbttecture 

more  recognition  of  actual  principles,  more  display  of 
good  artistic  sense  in  the  use  of  landscape  gardening 
materials.  A  great  deal  of  the  writing  on  landscape 
gardening  is  not  much  more  than  a  description  of 
the  virtues  and  vices  of  certain  trees  and  shrubs  and 
flowers,  their  beauties  and  their  drawbacks.  Some  at- 
tention should  be  given  naturally  to  the  practical  side 
of  the  subject,  but  only  enough  to  make  plainer  the 
application  of  the  fundamental  ideas.  There  is  un- 
doubtedly a  separation  required — were  it  but  tempo- 
rary— between  what  may  be  called  fundamental  ideas 
and  what  is  mere  detail.  At  present  in  landscape 
gardening  as  usually  practised,  good  ideas  based  on 
sound  precedents  are  words  almost  without  meaning  to 
most  people.  A  complete,  all-comprehending  system 
is  of  course  impossible  at  present  and  doubtless  always 
will  be.  Yet,  if  real  effort  of  thought  could  be  concen- 
trated on  cardinal  issues  and  less  padding  of  conven- 
tional and  traditional  details  were  foisted  in,  much 
might  be  done  to  make  research  into  landscape-garden- 
ing lore  more  fruitful. 

This  at  least  should  be  always  kept  in  mind,  that 
the  art  of  landscape  gardening  has  been  an  evolution  of 
ideas  originated  and  developed  down  through  the  ages 
by  the  unfolding  of  the  genius  and  the  practical  experi- 
ence of  skilled  and  cultured  men. 

No  man  is  entirely  original,  indeed  it  was  said  by 
John  La  Farge  that  if  an  idea  were  an  original  one  it 
would  be  safe  to  say  it  would  not  be  a  good  one.  Land- 
scape gardening  like  everything  else  has  its  roots  in  the 


Untrofcuction  39 

past,  and  the  best  art  of  this  kind,  or  for  that  matter  of 
any  kind,  is  made  up  of  the  ideas  obtained  from  many 
sources,  both  natural  and  historical.  In  The  Philosophy 
of  the  Practical  by  Benedetto  Croce  are  the  following 
words : 

"He  is  a  true  poet  (landscape  architect)  who  feels 
himself  at  once  bound  to  his  predecessors  and  free, 
conservative  and  revolutionary,  like  Homer,  Dante, 
and  Shakespeare,  who  receive  into  themselves  cen- 
turies of  history,  of  thought  and  poetry  and  add  to 
those  centuries  something  that  is  the  present  and 
will  be  the  future :  charges  du  passe,  gros  de  1'avenir. " 

And  this  growth  is  ever  moving  on,  not  without  set- 
backs, at  what  seems  to  be  slow  and  irregular  advance, 
but  in  the  long  future  we  can  confidently  believe  there 
will  be  always  a  day  of  better  things.  There  are 
periods  of  seeming  deadness  in  the  development  of 
landscaping  as  of  other  things,  but  there  need  be  no 
despondency  for 

"there  is  never  real  regression  in  history  (or  in  land- 
scape gardening) ,  but  only  contradictions  that  follow 
upon  solutions  given  and  prepare  new  ones."1 

1 B.  Croce. 


II 

THE  LAYING  OUT  OF  A  PARK  OR  ESTATE 

'  ¥  AYING  out  grounds,  as  it  is  called,  may  be 
considered  as  a  liberal  art,  in  some  sort,  like 
poetry  or  painting;  and  its  object  like  that 
of  the  liberal  arts  is,  or  ought  to  be,  to  move  the 
affections  under  the  control  of  good  sense;  that  is 
those  of  the  best  and  wisest ;  but  speaking  with  more 
precision,  it  is  to  assist  nature  in  moving  the  affections, 
and  surely,  as  I  have  said,  the  affections  of  those 
who  have  the  deepest  perception  of  the  beauty  of 
nature;  who  have  the  most  valuable  feelings,  that 
is  the  most  permanent,  and  most  independent,  the 
most  ennobling,  connected  with  nature  and  human 
life.  No  liberal  art  aims  merely  at  the  gratification 
of  an  individual  or  a  class:  the  painter  or  poet  is 
degraded  in  proportion  as  he  does  so;  the  true  ser- 
vants of  the  arts  pay  homage  to  the  human  kind  as 
impersonated  in  unwarped,  enlightened  minds.  If 
this  be  so  when  we  are  merely  putting  together  words 
or  colours,  how  much  more  ought  the  feeling  to  pre- 
vail when  we  are  in  the  midst  of  the  realities  of  things; 

of  the  beauty  and  harmony,  of  the  joys  and  happiness 

40 


©ut  of  a  park  or  Estate        41 

of  living  creatures;  of  men  and  children,  of  birds  and 
beasts,  of  hills  and  streams,  and  trees  and  flowers ;  with 
the  changes  of  night  and  day,  evening  and  morning, 
summer  and  winter ;  and  all  their  unwearied  actions 
and  energies,  as  benign  in  the  spirit  that  animates  them, 
as  beautiful  and  grand  in  the  form  and  clothing  which 
is  given  to  them  for  the  delight  of  our  senses."1 

All  parks  and  even  the  smallest  ornamental  ground 
should  indicate  at  once  the  presence  of  a  controlling 
scheme  of  design.  It  is  not  a  question  of  size;  there 
should  be  everywhere,  no  matter  what  the  size,  entire 
artistic  unity. 

A.  J.  Downing,  in  his  work  on  landscape  gardening, 
says: 

"Unity  or  the  production  of  the  whole  is  a  leading 
principle  of  the  highest  importance  in  every  art  of 
taste  or  design,  without  which  no  satisfactory  result 
can  be  realized.  This  arises  from  the  fact  that  the 
mind  can  only  attend  with  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
to  one  object  or  one  composite  sensation  at  the  same 
time.  If  two  distinct  objects  or  classes  of  objects 
present  themselves  at  once  to  us,  we  can  only  attend 
satisfactorily  to  one,  by  withdrawing  our  atten- 
tion for  the  time  from  the  other.  Hence,  the  neces- 
sity of  a  reference  to  this  leading  principle  of  unity." 
Thomas  Whately,  in  Observations  on  Modern  Garden- 
ing, writes: 

1  William  Wordsworth,  letter  to  Sir  G.  Beaumont,  1805. 


42  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

"In  landscape  gardening  violations  of  unity  are 
often  to  be  met  with,  and  they  are  always  indicative 
of  the  absence  of  correct  taste  in  art.  Looking  upon 
a  landscape  from  the  windows  of  a  villa  residence, 
we  sometimes  see  a  considerable  portion  of  the  view 
embraced  by  the  eye  laid  out  in  natural  groups  of 
trees  and  shrubs,  and  upon  one  side,  or,  perhaps,  in 
the  middle  of  the  same  scene,  a  formal  avenue  lead- 
ing directly  up  to  the  house.  Such  a  view  can  never 
appear  a  satisfactory  whole,  because  we  experience  a 
confusion  of  sensations  in  contemplating  it.  There 
is  an  evident  incongruity  in  bringing  two  modes  of 
arranging  plantations,  so  totally  different,  under  the 
eye  at  one  moment,  which  distracts,  rather  than 
pleases  the  mind.  In  this  example,  the  avenue, 
taken  by  itself,  may  be  a  beautiful  object,  and  the 
groups  and  connected  masses  may,  in  themselves, 
be  elegant,  yet  if  the  two  portions  are  seen  together, 
they  will  not  form  a  whole,  because  they  cannot 
make  a  composite  idea.  For  the  same  reason,  there 
is  something  unpleasing  in  the  introduction  of  fruit 
trees  among  elegant  ornamental  trees  on  a  lawn,  or 
even  in  assembling  together,  in  the  same  beds,  flower- 
ing plants,  and  culinary  vegetables — one  class  of 
vegetation  suggesting  the  useful,  and  homely,  alone 
to  the  mind,  and  the  other,  avowedly,  only  the 
ornamental. 

"In  the  arrangement  of  a  large  extent  of  surface, 
where  a  great  many  objects  are  necessarily  presented 
to  the  eye  at  once,  the  principle  of  unity  will  suggest 


ZTbe  SLasfng  <§>ut  of  a  park  or  Estate        43 

that  there  should  be  some  grand  or  leading  features 
to  which  the  others  should  be  merely  subordinate. 
Thus,  in  grouping  trees,  there  should  be  some  large 
and  striking  masses  to  which  the  others  appear  to 
belong,  however  distant,  instead  of  scattered  groups, 
all  of  the  same  size.  Even  in  arranging  walks,  a 
whole  will  more  readily  be  recognized,  if  there  are 
one  or  two,  of  large  size,  with  which  the  others  appear 
connected  as  branches,  than  if  all  are  equal  in  breadth, 
and  present  the  same  appearance  to  the  eye  in 
passing." 

The  difficulty  with  many  landscape  designs,  whether 
the  result  of  caprice,  or  of  too  strict  adherence  to  the 
canons  of  a  school,  is  that  the  plan  selected  is  not 
really  intelligent. 

In  the  words  of  an  acute  and  able  writer,  Harald 
Hoffding: 

"Gradually  man  learns  to  substitute  methods  for 
systems  and  to  ask  how  and  how  much  in  place  of 
why.  Instead  of  constructing  the  world  according 
to  the  caprice  of  his  imagination,  he  learns  to  discern 
the  interconnection  which  actually  obtains  from  it, 
and  when  in  this  way  he  gradually  arrives  at  finding 
one  great  unity  running  through  all  things  his  ima- 
gination will  regain  in  a  more  secure  form  all  that 
it  has  lost  when  its  daring  pictures  were  crowded 
out  by  critical  investigations." 

It  becomes  a  question,  once  the  general  plan  is  made, 


44  Xan&scape  Hrcbftecture 

of  establishing  unity  of  details,  of  eliminating  obtrusive, 
discordant,  or  redundant  elements,  of  changing  existing 
conditions  by  planting,  grading,  and  otherwise  estab- 
lishing harmonious  relations  between  the  old  parts 
and  new  parts  of  the  place,  for  it  is  quite  as  important 
to  carefully  retain  the  valuable  old  part  as  to  add  new 
effects  however  charming.  There  is  a  superior  quality 
peculiar  to  an  old  tree  or  the  old  and  natural  swell  of 
the  ground  that  should  have  the  most  careful  atten- 
tion, often  to  the  extent  of  leaving  it  entirely  alone  and 
doing  new  work  elsewhere  where  there  is  less  to  harm. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  problems  of  landscape 
gardening  to  manage  this  combination  of  the  old  with 
the  new  in  accordance  with  a  good  general  plan  so  that 
you  can  feel  yourself  in  the  presence  of  genuine  nature. 
The  result  we  should  seek  to  avoid  is  a  gathering  together 
in  woodland  masses  trees  and  shrubs  incongruous  with 
their  surroundings  and  therefore  unnatural  in  appearance, 
and  altogether  unfitted  to  the  general  artistic  scheme. 
To  lay  out  a  park  or  garden  properly  it  should  be 
studied  on  the  ground  and  the  peculiarities  of  the  place 
carefully  estimated  and  recorded  so  as  to  give  due  re- 
gard to  comfort  and  convenience  as  well  as  artistic 
possibilities.  The  idiosyncrasies  and  even  the  less 
peculiar  likings  of  the  owner  should  also  be  considered 
and  constant  effort  put  forth  to  make  a  home  that  is  a 
realization  of  his  taste  and  requirements. 

"How  is  it  possible  that  any  persons  can  make  a 
good  design  for  any  garden  whose  situation  they 


<§>ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate        45 

never  saw.  To  draw  a  beautiful  regular  draught  is 
not  to  the  purpose,  for  although  it  makes  a  hand- 
some figure  on  the  paper,  yet  it  has  quite  a  different 
effect  when  executed  on  the  ground."1 

There  should  be  also  full  realization  of  the  fact  that 
the  work  of  laying  out  a  park  or  estate,  large  or  small, 
should  always  be  considered  more  or  less  experimental. 
Plans  of  ornamental  grounds  have  much  less  value 
than  plans  of  architectural  structures  because  changes 
are  more  likely  to  be  necessary  with  live  trees  and 
shrubs  than  with  wood  and  iron  and  stone.  No  land- 
scape work  is  likely  to  be  well  done  unless  it  has  been 
changed  from  time  to  time.  The  study  of  the  place 
should  be  continuous  and  kept  up  long  after  the  initial 
work  is  finished.  Sometimes  a  radical  mistake  is  dis- 
covered when  the  landscape  gardening  is  well  advanced, 
but  none  the  less  should  the  mistake  be  remedied  at 
the  time,  because  the  remedy  is  often  difficult  and 
expensive  to  apply  and  therefore  likely  to  be  left 
unapplied  in  after  years. 

"The  building  of  a  place  should  be  begun  and 
carried  out  with  consistency  throughout ;  it  is  there- 
fore necessary  to  have  it  thoroughly  thought  out 
from  the  first,  and  guided  along  all  the  way  through 
by  one  controlling  mind,  a  mind  that  should  make 
use  of  the  thoughts  of  many  others,  welding  them 
into  an  organic  whole  so  that  the  stamp  of  indi- 
1  Battey  Langley. 


46  Xan&scape  Hrcbttecture 

viduality  and  unity  be  never  lost.  But  let  me  not 
be  misunderstood;  a  general  plan  should  govern  the 
whole,  there  must  be  no  room  for  random  work; 
in  every  detail  the  guiding  creating  brain  must  be 
recognized,  and  it  is  essential  that  the  scheme  should 
originate  from  the  special  circumstances  of  the  artist, 
from  the  experience  and  conditions  of  his  life  or  the 
former  history  of  his  family,  limited  by  the  locality 
with  which  he  has  to  deal ;  but  I  do  not  counsel  that 
the  whole  exact  plan  should  be  worked  out  in  detail 
at  first  and  doggedly  maintained  to  the  end.  I  would, 
to  a  large  extent,  recommend  just  the  opposite,  for 
even  if  the  main  scheme  comprehends  many  features 
which  may  be  considered  from  the  start,  in  working 
it  out  the  artist  must  continually  follow  the  inspira- 
tion of  his  imagination.  From  time  to  time,  the 
painter  will  alter  his  picture  (which,  after  all,  is 
much  less  complicated  than  the  picture  the  landscape 
gardener  has  to  create),  here  and  there  making  a 
part  more  true  to  the  general  effect  or  to  nature,  here 
improving  a  tone,  there  giving  more  accent,  more 
power  to  a  line.  Why  should  the  landscape  gar- 
dener who  works  in  such  refractory,  changeable, 
and  often  impossible-to-estimate  material,  and  who, 
moreover,  has  to  unite  many  different  pictures  in 
one,  succeed  in  hitting  the  mark  at  the  first  attempt 
infallibly?  Much  will  be  discovered  as  he  goes  on 
studying,  observing,  both  within  and  without  the 
confines  of  the  place,  the  light  effects  on  his  raw 
material  (for  light  is  one  of  his  chief  assets),  estab- 


ZTbe  Xapina  ©ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate        47 

lishing  cause  and  effect,  and  thereby  finding  new  ways 
of  working  out  in  detail  his  early  motives,  or  giving 
them  up  altogether  if  other  notions  for  the  treatment 
of  parts  strike  him  as  being  better. 

To  see,  remaining  undisturbed,  some  particular 
feature  which  has  proved  a  failure,  is  pitiable.  The 
reason  the  blemish  is  left  is  because  it  has  cost  so 
much  time,  so  much  money,  and  because  a  change 
would  add  to  the  expense,  costing  as  much  again  or 
even  more.  Constant  discipline  is  indispensable  in 
the  proper  exercise  of  any  art,  and  when  means  are 
not  sufficient  to  treat  every  part  of  a  park  as  it  should 
be  treated,  what  money  there  is  had  better  be  devoted 
towards  the  improvement  of  the  old  established 
features  than  to  the  making  of  new  ones.  The 
postponing  of  alterations  which  are  recognized  as 
advisable  is  a  dangerous  proceeding,  also,  because 
existing  faults  easily  lead  to  the  wrong  treatment  of 
new  features. 

"It  has  been  truly  said  that  'Artistic  production 
is  a  matter  of  conscience,'  hence  a  person  with  an 
artistic  conscience  cannot  remain  content  with  parts 
that  have  been  recognized  as  not  up  to  the  standard, 
or  failures.  Following  the  example  of  nature,  which 
starts  and  completes  her  humblest  work  with  the 
same  assiduous  care  she  bestows  upon  her  most 
sublime  creations,  one  would  rather  make  any 
sacrifice  than  leave  the  blemish  one  has  become 
aware  of,  even  if  in  itself  it  is  but  a  subordinate 
matter. 


48  %an&5cape  Hrcbttecture 

"Although  in  my  work  at  Muskau  I  never  de- 
parted a  moment  from  the  main  idea  which  I  shall 
have  occasion  later  to  describe,  yet  I  confess  that 
many  portions  have  not  only  been  retouched,  but 
that  they  have  been  entirely  changed,  often  once, 
sometimes  thrice  and  four  times  even.  It  would 
be  a  great  error  to  suppose  that  confusion  results 
from  repeated  alterations  undertaken  with  intelli- 
gence, for  sound  reasons  and  not  from  caprice. 
Rather  than  that  they  should  be  undertaken  from 
pure  caprice  it  would  certainly  be  best  to  never  have 
alterations  for  improvement.  In  general  the  dictum 
novum  prematur  in  annum  holds  good.  One  must 
never  rest  with  correcting  and  refining  until  the 
best  possible  results  have  been  attained;  a  principle 
never  to  be  relinquished  and  of  which  often  time 
alone  proves  to  be  the  great  teacher."1 

In  addition  to  the  study  of  the  possibilities  of  the 
place  for  use  and  beauty,  in  order  to  secure  good  results, 
it  is  necessary  to  equip  oneself  with  the  data  required. 
A  map  of  the  contours  or  lay  of  the  land  is  important, 
not  perhaps  so  much  for  the  landscape  gardener,  who 
must  make  up  his  mind  by  a  study  of  the  actual  land, 
but  for  the  purpose  of  giving  some  idea  to  the  client 
of  how  his  grounds  will  look  and  for  estimating  the 
probable  cost  of  constructing  them.  It  is  hardly 
possible  however  to  estimate  what  the  exact  cost  of 
such  work  will  be.  It  is  so  much  the  result  of  a  due 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Puckler. 


IXbe  %a£in0  <S>ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate        49 

exercise  of  taste  and  artistic  skill  that  its  cost  cannot 
be  foreseen  any  more  than  that  of  a  painting.  Experi- 
ments can  hardly  be  avoided,  and  experiments  cost 
money. 

The  initial  trouble  met  by  anyone  proposing  to  lay 
out  a  place  is  the  difficulty  of  foreseeing  how  his  ideas 
will  look  in  the  future.  Experience  in  the  behaviour 
of  different  soils  and  plants  in  different  situations  and 
a  natural  genius  can  alone  enable  one  to  form  a  picture 
in  the  mind  of  how  a  piece  of  landscape  gardening  will 
look  ten  or  twenty  years  hence.  One  tree  will  grow 
more  rapidly  in  this  place  than  in  that  one,  and  in 
many  places  unforeseen  results  will  necessarily  occur, 
but  something  of  the  real  nature  of  these  trees  should 
be  realized  beforehand,  so  as  to  be  able  to  see  the 
picture  somewhat  in  the  way  it  will  look  years  hence. 

"One  can  see  from  this  how  unwise  it  is  to  invite 
a  strange  artist  for  some  days  or  weeks  or  even  months 
with  the  view  of  making  a  plan  in  which  every  road 
and  every  plantation,  the  commanding  features  and 
all  the  details,  are  exactly  fixed.  And  worse  still 
to  send  such  a  person  merely  a  survey  of  the  place 
so  that  he  may  proceed  at  once  with  a  plan,  when  he 
has  no  feeling  of  the  character  of  the  region,  no 
knowledge  of  the  localities,  of  the  effects  of  hill  and 
dale,  of  high  or  low  trees  in  the  immediate  fore- 
ground or  in  the  distance,  for  him  to  draw  on  sub- 
missive paper  his  lines,  which  no  doubt  may  look 
very  pretty  and  good  there,  but  which  realized  into 


50  Xan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

facts  are  bound  to  achieve  at  best  an  inappropri- 
ate and  unsatisfactory  design.  Who  so  intends  to 
build  up  a  landscape  must  do  so  out  of  the  actual 
materials  from  which  that  particular  landscape  is  to 
be  created,  and  he  must  be  familiar  with  them  in 
every  particular.  Both  in  plan  and  execution  he 
works  quite  otherwise  than  the  painter  on  his  can- 
vas; he  deals  with  realities.  The  beauty  of  a  bit 
of  real  nature,  which  rendered  by  the  art  of  the 
painter  can  only  be  partly  hinted  at,  cannot  on  a 
plan  be  given  at  all;  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  on  the 
contrary  that  except  in  a  very  flat  region  where  no 
views  are  possible  and  little  can  be  achieved  anyhow, 
a  plan  which  is  agreeable  to  look  at  with  lines  pleas- 
ing to  the  eye  cannot  truly  stand  for  beauty  in  nature. 
My  experience  is  that  in  order  to  achieve  fine  results 
in  landscape  gardening  one  is  often  obliged  to  select 
lines  which  have  no  charm  on  a  plan  drawn  on 
paper."  x 

In  order  to  approach  properly  the  consideration  of 
the  laying  out  of  any  place  it  is  well  to  go  farther  than 
the  contour  map  and  secure  photographs  of  features 
that  are  characteristic  of  its  scenery,  and  that  may  be 
memoranda  to  be  used  in  forming  a  mental  picture  of 
what  the  final  scheme  should  be.  This  picture  will  be 
at  first  vague,  but  after  considerable  study  of  the 
existing  landscape,  dreaming  over  it  'f  you  choose, 
looking  at  it  from  every  angle,  measuring  the  contour 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Piickler. 


ZTbe  OLa^fng  ©ut  ot  a  parfe  or  Estate        51 

map,  and  comparing  photographs,  there  will  gradually 
dawn  on  the  mind  some  idea  of  what  the  whole  design 
when  completed  should  look  like,  how  the  various  parts 
should  develop  individually  and  grow  into  a  unified 
whole.  This  is  the  vital  part  of  the  work,  the  part 
that  involves  concentrated  thought  more  than  any 
other.  It  may  reveal  itself  quickly  or  take  a  longer 
time  and  come  only  after  continued  study  of  the  place 
itself  as  well  as  various  models,  for  such  a  picture 
should  be  made  to  realize  a  decided  and  carefully 
thought-out  clear  conception  such  as  would  satisfy 
any  one  as  a  real  artistic  creation,  and  not  a  vague 
phantasm  or  a  hodge-podge. 

Yet  it  should  be  remembered  that,  though  the  art 
faculty  exists  in  some  degree  in  all  men,  in  its  creative 
degree  it  is  the  privilege  of  comparatively  few.  The 
process  of  creation  has  been  thus  described :  "  Reflection 
and  voluntary  adaptation  intervenes  in  a  moment  of 
inspiration,  and  inspiration  supervenes  on  afterthought 
and  remembrance.  '  And  as  I  mused  the  fire  kindled/  " 

The  order  in  which  a  scheme  of  laying  out  should 
be  studied  is :  First :  The  necessary  limitations,  roads, 
and  spaces  intended  for  buildings  of  different  sorts. 
Second:  Views  to  be  revealed  or  kept  open  by  cutting 
out  existing  woods  or  arranging  planting  so  as  to  lead 
the  eye  to  pleasant  prospects.  Third:  The  shutting 
out  of  disagreeable  objects  by  planting  trees  and  shrubs 
and  leading  roads  and  paths  as  far  as  possible  away  from 
them,  and  then  a  definite  picture  controlled  by  these 
limitations. 


52  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

"The  perfection  in  landscape  gardening  consists 
in  the  four  following  requisites :  First  it  must  display 
the  natural  beauties  and  hide  the  natural  defects  of 
every  situation.  Secondly :  it  should  give  the  appear- 
ance of  extent  and  freedom,  by  carefully  disguising 
or  hiding  the  boundary.  Thirdly :  it  must  studiously 
conceal  every  interference  of  art,  however  expensive, 
by  which  the  scenery  is  improved,  making  the  whole 
appear  the  production  of  nature  only;  and  fourthly, 
all  objects  of  mere  convenience  or  comfort,  if  in- 
capable of  being  made  ornamental,  or  of  becoming 
proper  parts  of  the  general  scenery,  must  be  removed 
or  concealed."  x 

Another  principle  that  needs  emphasis  in  laying  out 
places  is  the  general  plan  of  bordering  plantations 
around  the  entire  boundaries  with  walks  and  roads 
running  in  and  out  through  the  trees  and  shrubbery, 
leaving  great  open  spaces  of  greensward  with  only 
here  and  there  an  isolated  tree  or  small  group  of  shrubs 
set  near  the  main  mass.  The  value  of  these  open 
spaces  of  greensward  from  a  strictly  artistic  standpoint 
cannot  be  overestimated.  It  is  a  helpful  idea  to  recog- 
nize that  the  lawns  of  a  place  have  frequently  a  shore 
line,  as  itjwere,  like  that  of  most  lakes,  with  promon- 
tories and  bays,  thus  making  the  grass  space  really 
the  eye  of  the  landscape.  Catullus  says  in  addressing 
his  own  lake  in  the  country : 

1  Humphry  Repton,  The  Art  of  Landscape  Gardening. 


ZTbe  Xaptng  <S>ut  of  a  park  or  Estate        53 

"Dear  Sirio  that  art  the  very  eye  of  islands  and 
peninsulas  that  lie  deeply  embossed  in  calm  inland 
lakes!" 

The  example  I  have  in  mind,  a  painting  of  Menand, 
shows  how  a  picture  of  a  lake  of  this  kind  among  wooded 
hills  should  be  constructed.  The  artist  evidently  knew 
and  loved  his  type.  Moreover,  this  picture  forms  an 
excellent  example  of  how  the  presence  of  water  of  a 
certain  sort  may  make  with  most  charming  effect  the 
very  eye  of  the  landscape. 

Writers  on  landscape  gardening  in  the  eighteenth 
century  dwell  much  on  the  value  of  the  sensations 
produced  by  various  kinds  of  landscape  gardening. 

"Gardening  besides  the  emotions  of  beauty  by 
means  of  regularity,  order,  proportion,  colour,  and 
utility,  can  raise  emotions  of  grandeur,  of  sweetness, 
of  gaiety,  melancholy,  wildness,  and  even  of  surprise 
or  wonder.  In  gardening  as  well  as  in  architecture, 
simplicity  ought  to  be  the  governing  taste.  Profuse 
ornament  hath  no  better  effect  than  to  confuse  the 
eye  and  to  prevent  the  object  from  making  an  im- 
pression as  one  entire  whole.  A  third  idea  of  a 
garden  approaching  perfection  is  of  objects  assem- 
bled together  in  order  to  produce  not  only  an  emotion 
of  beauty  essential  to  gardens  of  every  kind,  but  also 
some  other  particular  emotion,  grandeur,  for  example, 
gaiety,  or  any  other  of  those  above  mentioned." r 

1  Henry  Home,  Lord  Kames. 


54  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

This  idea  has  its  value  doubtless,  but  it  can  be  easily 
overworked.  Truly,  a  special  scene  may  suggest  such 
feelings  in  the  beginning,  and  help  from  the  landscape 
gardener  may  readily  increase  their  strength,  and  it 
should  be  the  aim  of  the  designer  or  artist  to  recognize 
this  quality  of  a  place,  and  to  encourage  in  various  ways 
the  feelings  it  naturally  produces.  But  such  a  note 
cannot  be  forced  and  may  even  come  to  make  the  effect 
absurd.  Imagination  may  add  much  to  the  pleasure  of 
a  piece  of  landscape  gardening,  but  too  much  in  a 
more  or  less  vague  way  may  easily  be  attempted,  pro- 
ducing unsatisfactory  results. 

The  condition  of  the  mind  at  the  time  of  experi- 
encing the  effects  of  the  scene  counts  largely,  and  the 
effect  produced  by  the  environment  is  not  always  simple 
melancholy,  gaiety,  or  awe.  It  has  a  larger  compass 
and  may  take  the  form  indicated  by  the  following 
beautiful  quotation  from  Maine  de  Biran: 

"I  have  experienced  this  evening  in  a  solitary 
walk  taken  during  the  finest  weather,  some  instan- 
taneous flashes  of  that  ineffable  enjoyment,  which  I 
have  tasted  at  other  times  and  at  such  a  season  of 
that  pure  pleasure  that  seems  to  snatch  us  away 
from  all  that  is  of  earth,  to  give  us  a  foretaste 
of  heaven.  The  verdure  had  a  new  freshness  and 
took  beauty  from  the  last  ray  of  the  sinking  sun, 
all  things  were  instinct  with  a  soft  splendour,  the 
trees  waved  tenderly  their  majestic  crests,  the  air 
was  full  of  balm,  and  the  nightingales  inter- 


tlbe  SLaping  ©ut  of  a  jparfe  or  Estate         55 

changed   sighs   of   love,    which  yielded  to  accents 
of  pleasure  and  joy. 

"I  walked  gently  in  an  alley  of  young  plane  trees 
which  I  planted  a  few  years  since.  Above  all  the 
vague  incomplete  impressions  and  images  which  were 
born  of  the  presence  of  the  objects  and  my  moods, 
hovered  this  feeling  of  the  infinite  which  bears  us 
onward  sometimes  towards  a  world  superior  to  phe- 
nomena, towards  this  world  of  realities  which  links 
itself  to  God,  as  the  first  and  only  reality.  It 
seems  in  this  condition  when  all  sensations  with- 
out and  within  are  calm  and  happy,  as  if  there 
were  a  peculiar  sense  appropriate  to  heavenly  things, 
which,  wrapped  up  in  the  actual  fashion  of  our 
existence,  is  destined  perhaps  to  develop  itself  one 
day  when  the  soul  shall  have  quitted  its  mortal 
husk." 

It  was  men  of  a  similar  type,  in  this  respect,  to  Maine 
de  Biran  who  earlier,  back  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
felt  the  impulse  of  a  rising  desire  for  free  landscape 
gardening,  and  developed  an  instinct  for  the  enjoyment 
in  nature  of  something  higher  than  melancholy  or 
terror  or  gaiety  or  what  is  understood  ordinarily  as 
feeling.  There  were  men  even  in  those  days  who  like 
Fenelon,  the  spiritual  ancestor  and  acknowledged 
master  of  de  Biran,  would  write  in  flat  Versailles 
what  is  said  to  be  the  first  ode  of  praise  of  distant 
mountain  tops;  who  like  Racine  would  murmur  in 
the  alleys  of  the  park: 


56  Xanfcscape  Hrcbftecture 

Quand  elle  est  en  liberte*, 
La  Nature  est  inimitable. 


Fenelon  loved  a  "beau  desert"  and  in  his  Dialogues 
des  Morts  appears  the  following:  "La  Nature  a  ici  je 
ne  sais  quoi  de  brut  qui  plait  et  qui  fait  r£ver  agre- 
ablement."  Fenelon  also  says:  "On  aime  d'autant 
plus  purement  alprs  qu'on  aime  sans  sentir  comme  on 
croit  avec  plus  de  merite  lorsqu'on  croit  sans  voir." 
This  state  is  not  essentially  different  from  that  intel- 
lectual love  of  God  which  Spinoza  declares  to  be  beyond 
emotion. 

It  may  be  thought  that  impressive  effects  can  be 
developed  by  making  combinations  of  colour  of  the 
foliage  of  trees  and  shrubs.  But  this  leads  to  disap- 
pointment because  all  such  colours  vary  from  year  to 
year  according  to  the  atmospheric  and  soil  conditions, 
fertility,  heat,  cold,  etc.  Prince  Puckler  has  this  to 
say  in  his  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening: 

"How  far  one  may  plant  with  the  deliberate 
intention  of  attaining  artistic  light  and  shade  and 
colour  contrast,  I  will  not  venture  to  state.  The 
matter  has  great  difficulties,  and  in  my  experience 
these  attempts  if  I  went  too  far  into  detail  have 
seldom  succeeded  very  well,  and  on  the  other  hand, 
plantations  mixed  quite  recklessly  often  unfolded 
the  most  unexpected  charms;  nay,  they  earned  me 
many  compliments  for  my  art  wherein  I  was  as 
innocent  as  many  a  physician  who  has  effected  a 


TTbe  OLaptng  ©ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate        57 

great  cure  without  knowing  how.  I  do  not  lay  much 
stress  on  any  instructions  in  this  matter  as  I  have 
always  taken  an  easy  middle  course.  It  must  also  be 
remembered  that  the  foliage  of  trees  will  often  assume 
an  entirely  different  and  unexpected  shade  when 
transplanted  to  a  different  soil  and  this  cannot 
always  be  regulated  in  a  large  plot.  It  may  happen 
that  a  dark  coloured  maple  intended  for  shading 
grows  a  very  light  foliage.  It  is  quite  obvious, 
however,  that  one  should  avoid  too  variegated  a 
mixture  of  leaves,  too  frequent  alternations  of  dark 
and  light  green  foliage,  but  here  also  where  it  would 
be  hard  to  lay  down  good,  sharp  rules  in  detail,  the 
taste  of  the  owner  must  be  the  best  guide. 

Colour  effects  of  a  reasonably  exact  and  foreseen 
character  can  be  obtained  during  the  summer  with 
bedding  plants  such  as  coleuses  and  geraniums. 

Finally  it  is  important  for  the  designer  of  landscape 
work  to  keep  his  mind  free  from  fads,  and  from  the 
tendency  to  place  undue  weight  on  some  special  part  of 
the  place,  for  the  garden  is  just  as  important  as  the 
shrubbery,  trees,  and  grass  spaces,  and  equal  in  value 
in  their  own  ways  are  the  roads  and  paths,  and  walls 
and  water  pools,  or  lakes  or  streams. 

"Everything  has  its  own  perfection,  be  it  higher 
or  lower  in  the  scale  of  things,  and  the  perfection  of 
one  is  not  the  perfection  of  another.  Things  ani- 
mate, inanimate,  visible  or  invisible,  all  are  good  in 


58  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

their  kind,  and  have  a  best  of  themselves,  which  is 
an  object  of  pursuit.  Why  do  you  take  such  pains 
with  your  garden  or  your  park?  You  see  to  your 
walks,  and  turf,  and  shrubberies,  to  your  trees  and 
drives,  not  as  if  you  meant  to  make  an  orchard  of 
one,  or  corn  or  pasture  land  of  the  other,  but  because 
there  is  a  special  beauty  in  all  that  is  goodly  in  wood, 
water,  plain,  and  slope,  brought  all  together  by  art 
into  one  shape,  and  grouped  into  one  whole."1 

Another  important  illustration  of  laying  out  parks 
and  estates  is  the  world-famed  Windsor  Castle.  The 
broad  plateau  on  which  it  stands  dominates  the  entire 
surrounding  country  and  yet  it  rests  easily,  and  its 
great  size  preserves  its  dignity  in  the  midst  of  noble 
scenery  extended  in  all  directions.  Prince  Piickler 
von  Muskau  visited  England  about  1826,  and  preserved 
the  records  of  his  visit  in  letters  to  his  wife,  from 
which  the  following  extracts  are  made : 

"The  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  the  castle 
are  truly  worthy  of  the  King  of  England.  Situated 
on  a  hill  above  the  town,  while  it  presents  a  noble 
object  from  every  side,  its  position  gives  it  an  immense 
advantage.  Its  historic  interest,  its  high  antiquity, 
and  its  astonishing  vastness  and  extent  unite  to 
render  it  single  in  the  world.  ...  As  to  your  opin- 
ion about  parks  I  must  remark  that  the  extent  of 
them,  especially  when  properly  rounded,  can  never 

1  John  Henry  Newman. 


Mount  Vernon,  the  Home  of  George  Washington. 

Reproduced  by  Permission  of  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co. 
From  a  Photograph  by  Arthur  G.  Eldredge. 


Bosca,  or  Grove,  on  a  Place  near  Elmsford,  N.  Y. 

Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 


Ube  Xasfns  <§>ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       59 

be  great  enough.  Windsor  park  is  the  only  one 
which  has  fully  satisfied  me  as  a  whole  and  the  reason 
for  that  is  its  enormous  size.  It  realizes  all  I  would 
have : — a  pleasant  tract  of  country  within  the  bounds 
of  which  you  can  live  and  do  what  you  like  without 
privation  or  constraint;  hunt,  fish,  ride,  drive  with- 
out ever  feeling  cramped;  in  which  you  never  see  a 
point  except  just  at  the  entrance  gates,  at  which 
you  remark,  Here  is  the  boundary;  and  to  which 
all  the  beauties  of  the  surrounding  country  to  the 
remotest  distance  have  been  rendered  tributary  by 
a  cultivated  taste.  In  other  respects  you  are  right; 
one  must  not  throw  away  good  and  bad  together; 
and  it  is  better  to  conceal  many  defects  and  limita- 
tions of  the  ground  by  skilfully  planned  paths  and 
plantations,  than  to  make  disproportionate  sacrifices 
to  them." 

Almost  next  in  importance  to  Windsor  Castle,  al- 
though not  to  be  mentioned  in  connexion  with  it  for 
size  and  magnificence,  is  Mt.  Vernon,  the  home  of 
George  Washington.  Its  fame  is  world-wide,  but  its 
value  as  an  example  of  how  to  lay  out  an  estate  has 
received  little  attention.  It  is  really  an  excellent  model 
for  landscape  gardeners.  Here  will  be  found  qualities 
such  as  simplicity,  breadth,  good  proportion  in  the 
various  features,  and  the  dignity  which  all  such  places 
should  possess.  On  one  side  of  the  house,  a  broad 
lawn  slopes  down  to  the  banks  of  the  Potomac  with 
not  a  tree  or  shrub  to  disturb  the  surface.  On  the 


60  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

borders  of  the  lawn  large  shade  trees  frame  the  pic- 
ture. Approaching  from  the  other  and  less  interesting 
side  you  are  led  to  the  house  by  well-balanced  winding 
drives  which  are  screened  by  trees  and  shrubs.  Back 
of  the  trees  and  shrubs  are  large  vegetable  and  flower 
gardens,  very  properly  shut  out  from  view.  It  is  a 
good  example  of  what  an  estate  of  a  cultivated  country 
gentleman  should  be,  and  is  a  place  which  reflects  a 
character  which  any  man,  though  ever  so  rich,  should 
wish  to  have  presented  to  the  world  as  his  own. 

Germany,  the  home  of  landscaping  in  its  fully  de- 
veloped form,  presents  the  estate  of  Prince  Piickler 
and  the  Park  of  Babelsberg  near  Potsdam,  as  well  as 
other  parks  in  the  empire,  as  good  examples  of  the  art 
and  its  proper  practice.  The  illustration  of  the  park 
at  Muskau  affords  a  view  of  a  size  and  extent  that  is  a 
fine  example  of  the  best  landscape  gardening,  and  the 
plans  of  the  front  lawn  of  the  castle  as  it  originally 
appeared  before  Prince  Puckler's  alterations  are,  as 
it  now  appears,  illuminating  as  to  the  possibilities  of 
skilful  rearrangement. 

But  while  we  dwell  with  admiration  on  the  great  land- 
scape architecture  of  the  world  at  Windsor  Park,  Eng- 
land, and  Central  Park,  New  York,  we  should  not  forget 
the  small  places,  the  nooks  and  corners  where  the  houses 
stand  on  a  quarter  of  an  acre,  one  acre,  or  five  or  ten 
acres.  There  are  myriads  of  such  places  which  need 
study  of  an  intelligent  sort,  where  the  grounds  have 
laid  themselves  out  in  accidental  fashion,  and  where 
any  ideas  of  design  are  difficult  to  discover.  It  should 


The  Lawn  in  Front  of  "the  Castle  in  the  Park  of  Muskau  as  Originally  Laid  Out. 

Taken  from  Old  Print. 


The  Same  Lawn  in  Front  of  the  Castle,  in  the  Park  of  Muskau,  as  redesigned  by 

Prince  Puckler. 
Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 


^taping  ©ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       61 

always  be  remembered  that  nearly  every  idea  concern- 
ing the  composition  of  landscape  put  forth  in  this  book 
applies  equally  to  a  small  as  to  a  large  place,  in  one 
country  as  in  another,  even  in  one  age  as  well  as  another, 
and  in  all  future  chapters  it  will  be  found  that  this 
recognition  of  the  universality  of  fundamental  ideas 
will  continue  to  be  emphasized.  However,  as  example 
is  always  more  impressive  than  precept,  it  may  be  well 
to  give  two  or  three  sketches  to  explain  and  to  illustrate 
this  comprehensive  idea.  In  this  way,  the  subject  may 
be  made  clearer. 

Newburgh  is  a  considerable  town  on  the  Hudson 
about  sixty  miles  from  New  York.  It  is  an  old  town 
and  has  had  for  a  hundred  years  a  reputation  for  the 
beauty  of  its  homes  standing  in  full  view  of  some  of  the 
finest  scenes  of  the  Hudson.  The  father  of  landscape 
gardening  in  America,  A.  J.  Downing,  lived  seventy 
years  ago  at  Newburgh,  where  his  home  still  exists. 
To  his  influence  may  be  attributed  some  of  the  land- 
scape-gardening excellence  visible  in  different  parts  of 
the  city  and  in  its  immediate  neighbourhood.  While 
it  is  hardly  at  the  present  time  what  one  would  call  a 
smart  place  where  the  estates  are  like  those  on  some 
parts  of  Long  Island,  or  at  Newport,  or  in  the  regions 
where  fashion  draws  the  very  rich,  Newburgh  is  a 
dignified  and  fine  place.  The  art  shown  in  its  estates 
would  be  recognized  anywhere  as  that  of  people  who 
knew  how  to  appreciate  and  care  for  fine  specimens  of 
old  shade  trees,  pools  of  water,  and  vistas  across  the 
lawns  and  through  the  foliage.  It  is  not  surprising 


62  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

therefore  that  one  is  able  to  discover  :n  such  a  region 
small  places  that  fulfil  the  requirements  of  a  high  type 
of  landscape  art. 

Mr.  John  Staples  a  few  years  ago  bought  an  estate 
in  Newburgh  where  he  had  lived  as  a  boy.  It  is  strange 
how  people,  when  they  come  to  prosper  a  little,  instinc- 
tively seek  abiding  places  in  the  region  where  they 
lived  when  they  were  children,  or  even  in  the  houses 
where  they  were  born.  Mr.  Staples  found  on  the  place 
at  Newburgh,  which  he  bought,  everything  that  should 
dignify  an  estate  and  render  it  worthy  of  admiration, 
undulating  lawns,  fine  shade  trees,  and  a  house  beauti- 
fully draped  with  vines.  The  estate  is  not  pretentious ; 
it  is  simply  fine  in  a  h:ghly  satisfactory  way. 

But  Mr.  Staples  loves  the  woods  and  everything 
connected  with  the  woods,  and  consequently  sought 
the  wooded  territory  that  formed  a  considerable  part 
of  his  domain.  He  liked  to  wander  through  this  little 
wilderness  and  watch  all  sorts  of  wild  effects  and  ani- 
mated things,  and  to  study  what  he  could  do  with 
them.  A  born  woodsman,  there  were  few  objects  of 
interest  his  eyes  missed.  It  was  delightful  to  be  out 
in  the  woods  and  contrive  things.  Mr.  Staples,  though 
a  man  of  few  words,  liked  to  say  that  a  man,  a  dog,  and 
a  brook  belonged  together.  So  year  by  year,  he  played 
with  his  brook  which  was  at  first  hidden  in  a  ravine 
where  spring  freshets  destroyed  it.  First  he  tapped 
it  and  used  its  water,  and  made  a  pool;  then,  after 
preparing  a  small  lawn  for  it  with  shrubs  and  trees 
where  lately  a  rubbish  heap  existed,  he  led  it  along 


trbe  OLa£in0  <§>ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       63 

the  hillside  bordering  the  open  space,  and  finally  think- 
ing the  brook  did  not  look  altogether  happy,  he  brought 
it  over  alongside  the  wood  road  and  took  it  by  a  cir- 
cuitous route  to  the  waterfall  and  so  down  into  the 
pool.  He  also  built  a  bungalow,  or  a  tea  house,  or  a 
picnic  house,  whichever  you  may  choose  to  call  it, 
which  had  in  its  simple  rustic  way  the  comforts  of  a 
home.  This  bungalow  stands  on  the  banks  of  the 
brook  just  above  the  falls  on  the  edge  of  a  charming 
spot  where  several  trees  appear  in  a  group,  and  a  small 
footbridge  spans  the  stream  and  leads  to  the  building. 
The  scene  is  entirely  American ;  just  such  a  scene  would 
hardly  appear  anywhere  but  on  the  Hudson.  There 
is  nothing  whatever  alien  about  it.  The  picture  has 
been  composed  by  Mr.  Staples  for  the  purpose  of  mak- 
ing what  may  be  termed  a  little  home  in  the  woods  to 
be  occupied  a  longer  or  shorter  time  as  his  fancy  may 
lead  him.  The  curious  part  of  the  design  of  the  pic- 
ture is  that  somehow  it  is  Japanese  in  effect.  It  may 
be  said  that  the  Japanese  lantern  and  little  arched 
wooden  bridge  have  a  distinctly  Japanese  quality, 
but  that  alone  would  not  account  for  the  suggestion 
of  Japanese  scenery.  You  might  set  these  accessories 
in  a  landscape  on  other  lawns  and  they  would  not 
create  a  Japanese  effect.  The  fact  is  that  Mr.  Staples, 
whether  consciously  or  not,  has  worked  out  his  little 
picture  on  right  artistic  and  natural  lines,  that  would 
make  good  art  in  the  landscape  gardening  of  any  part 
of  the  world.  The  Japanese,  true  artists  as  they  are, 
work  out  their  landscape  schemes  on  entirely  natural 


64  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

lines,  although  we,  who  as  a  rule  fail  to  understand 
their  peculiar  highly  symbolized  garden  theories,  and 
know  little  of  the  scenery  of  Japan,  may  not  at  first 
see  it.  Here  is  a  proof  of  the  truth  of  what  has  been 
said,  a  proof  that  is  based  "on  fact.  A  Japanese  artist 
of  high  standing  in  his  own  country  visits  an  artist  in 
America  who  has  been  his  guest  in  Japan.  Together 
they  go  to  Central  Park,  New  York,  and  the  Japanese 
looks  around  and  remarks,  "How  like  this  is  to  scenes 
in  Japan."  This  seems  at  first  thought  a  little  absurd, 
as  gardens  in  Japan  are  so  different  from  those  of 
other  countries. 

The  idea,  however,  to  be  enforced  is  that  landscape 
gardening  in  any  country  will,  if  it  is  good  art,  be  in- 
spired by  certain  fundamental  ideas,  which  whether 
they  have  an  American  air,  or  a  Japanese  air,  are 
recognized  by  all  nations  as  having  a  universal  or 
world- wide  kinship.  Curious  is  it  not?  But  notice 
how  the  Japanese  butler  who  made  the  photograph  of 
Mr.  Staples's  little  home  in  the  woods  has  recognized 
and  caught  this  Japanese  spirit,  and  limited  his  picture 
to  the  exact  scope  that  would  make  it  Japanese,  and 
yet  distinctively  American.  Note  how  American  the 
grove  of  trees  is,  and  how  happily,  from  the  American 
standpoint,  the  building  is  located,  and  yet  very  likely 
the  Japanese  thought  of  home  when  he  took  the  photo- 
graph. The  perspective  of  the  picture  is  excellent 
and  you  wonder  what  is  beyond,  which  always  adds 
charm  to  a  landscape.  There  is  a  universal  quality 
pertaining  to  such  landscape  work  that  any  man,  if 


ZTbe  Xaping  <§mt  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       65 

he  expresses  his  real  feelings,  prefers  to  distinctively 
English,  French,  or  Italian  gardening.  The  mistake 
should  not  be  made  of  thinking  Mr.  Staples  is  not  well 
informed  in  the  art  of  making  landscape  scenery,  and 
that  he  does  things  in  any  haphazard  fashion.  He  is 
really  highly  informed  in  the  secrets  of  his  art.  An 
intelligent  eye  must  realize  that  he  knows  how  to 
manage  the  scenery  along  the  shores  and  banks  of  the 
brook,  knows  how  and  where  to  set  his  trees  and  shrubs 
and  flowers,  where  to  make  his  pools,  and  where  to 
locate  a  building  and  give  it  a  proper  background.  It 
takes  study  and  a  special  gift  to  do  such  work.  Mr. 
Staples,  doubtless,  would  say  that  he  did  not  claim  to 
be  a  landscape  gardener  or  a  horticulturist,  but  never- 
theless he  knows  good  landscape  art  when  he  sees  it, 
and  he  has  seen  it,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  There 
can  be  no  question  that  his  skill  has  been  "aided  and 
disciplined  by  frequent  reference  to  and  companion- 
ship with  finely  suggestive  artistic  precedents  and 
examples."1  It  is  interesting  to  note  how  entirely 
sympathetic  two  artists  may  be,  and  how  they  may 
work  with  entirely  different  motives,  and  yet  the  skill 
of  both  show  equal  evidences  of  frequent  "references 
to  and  companionship  with  finely  suggestive  artistic 
precedents  and  examples."  This  is  shown  by  the 
illustration  where  Mr.  Beale,  a  distinguished  artist, 
and  an  intimate  and  most  appreciative  friend  of  Mr. 
Staples,  has  made  a  formal  garden  on  just  as  good  lines 
of  its  kind  as  those  of  the  little  woodside  cottage  just 

1  Gino  C.  Speranza. 
5 


66  %anbscape  Hrcbitectute 

described.  Mr.  Beale  has  travelled  and  seen  the  best 
examples  of  landscape  art  in  different  countries.  Yet, 
on  his  quaint  old  country  place  on  the  Hudson,  with  its 
great  shadowing  trees,  small  lakes,  and  open  lawns  and 
fine  distant  vistas,  he  has  seen  that  the  conventional 
Italian  garden  would  look  entirely  out  of  place.  Con- 
sequently what  does  he  do?  He  simply  attaches  to  the 
verandah  a  platform  of  gravel  and  a  balustrade  and 
steps  where  the  same  character  of  architecture  is  used. 
Thus  his  garden  becomes  actually  a  part  of  the  house. 
The  architecture  of  the  house  is  simple  and  plain,  but 
excellently  suited  to  the  grounds ;  and  in  the  same  spirit 
Mr.  Beale  has  kept  his  flowers  on  a  low  key  of  colour 
and  made  all  the  main  part  of  the  garden  a  broad  carpet 
of  greensward  with  a  fountain  in  the  centre.  Along 
the  walk  that  outlines  the  greensward  and  borders  the 
walls  are  massed  the  flowers.  The  rough  stone  walls 
are  completely  covered  with  vines  and  the  background 
of  trees  and  house  and  a  considerable  lawn  space 
visible  beyond,  completes  the  picture.  It  is,  moreover, 
a  sunken  garden  because  the  shape  of  the  ground  in 
the  original  valley  suggested  it.  If  the  ground  had 
been  on  a  level  with  the  house,  a  sunken  garden  would 
have  been  entirely  out  of  place.  The  point  that  needs 
making  emphatic  is  the  simple,  broad  design  with  its 
fitness  to  the  house  and  characteristic  quality  of  the  place. 
How  strange  and  interesting  it  is  to  note  the  kinship 
and  universality  of  certain  ideas  of  landscape  art  latent, 
not  only  in  the  present  but  in  the  past,  as  expressed 
by  written  documents  and  examples  of  various  kinds. 


TTbe  Staging  <§>ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       67 

In  Newburgh  a  garden  is  made  by  a  distinguished 
artist  which  fits  the  house  and  the  landscape,  and  yet 
sends  the  roots  of  its  art  down  into  the  past  through 
Italian,  Roman,  Greek,  and  Persian  until  it  reaches  the 
garden  of  Eden  itself.  In  another  place  in  Newburgh 
one  finds  a  bit  of  woodland  scenery  which  is  so  managed 
as  to  suggest  a  Japanese  garden  and  at  the  same 
time  an  American  home,  and  which  is  also  in  a  way 
akin  to  the  Chinese  garden,  parent  of  the  Japanese 
type. 

Furthermore,  one  remembers  Marco  Polo,  who  on  his 
return  from  a  twenty-four  years'  sojourn  in  Northern 
China  (Cathay)  gave  his  friend  Rusticien  de  Pise  his 
notes  and  much  oral  information,  thus  enabling  him  to 
write  an  account  of  his  travels.  An  English  chronicler, 
Purchas,  wrote  some  account  of  Marco  Polo's  travels, 
taken  doubtless  from  this  book,  and  one  day  Coleridge, 
the  poet,  fell  asleep  after  reading  as  follows:  "Here  the 
Khan  Kub'a  commanded  a  palace  to  be  built  and  stately 
gardens  thereto,  and  thus  ten  miles  of  fertile  ground 
were  enclosed  with  a  wall."  During  his  nap  Coleridge 
had  a  dream  and  on  awakening  wrote  down  these 
lines: 


In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 

A  stately  pleasure  dome  decree 

Where  Alph  the  sacred  river  ran 

Through  caverns  measureless  to  man 

Down  to  a  sunless  sea, 

So  twice  five  miles  of  fertile  ground 

With  walls  and  towers  were  girded  round' 


68  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

And  here  were  gardens  bright  and  sinuous  rills 
Where  blossomed  many  an  incense-bearing  tree, 
And  here  were  forests  ancient  as  the  hills 
Unfolding  sunny  spots  of  greenery. 

Evidently  the  poet,  under  the  untrammelled  inspira- 
tion of  his  imagination,  dreamed  something  much 
nearer  the  best  type  of  gardens  and  lawns  than  the 
lines  of  the  old  chronicler  would  indicate.  This  is 
easy  to  understand:  Coleridge  was  an  Englishman  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  and  was  doubtless  more  or  less 
familiar  with  the  modern  schools  of  landscape  garden- 
ing. The  strangest  part  is  that  it  seems  that  Oderic 
of  Pordenone,  a  Venetian  and  a  Franciscan  friar,  went 
to  Cathay  in  the  fourteenth  century,  many  years  after 
Marco  Polo,  and  in  his  account  of  his  travels  verified 
the  truth  of  the  narrative  about  the  fountains  and 
gardens  of  the  Xanadu  of  Marco  Polo,  and  also  related 
how  the  Chinese  architects  built  these  wonders  of  the 
age  in  accordance  with  instructions  of  the  Great  Khan 
Kabula,  who  had  dreamed  a  p'cture  of  how  they  should 
be  designed.  Doubtless  his  dream  was  based  on  a 
knowledge  of  the  landscape  gardening  of  his  day,  just 
as  Coleridge  was  unconsciously  influenced  by  his  re- 
collections of  the  parks  of  England.  This  comparative 
identity  of  ideas  becomes  more  evident  when  we  read 
in  Marco  Polo's  narrative  how  the  Khan  built  in  one 
part  of  his  park  a  mount,  a  hundred  paces  across  the 
top  and  a  mile  in  circuit  at  the  base.  This  hill  he  had 
covered  with  large  evergreen  trees  moved  from  a  dis- 
tance with  the  assistance  of  elephants,  hence  the  name 


SLasfng  <S>ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       69 

Green  Mount.  The  earth  required  to  make  this  mount, 
when  excavated,  left  a  place  for  a  small  lake  which 
was  supplied  by  a  running  stream.  Thus  we  have  all 
the  necessary  elements  of  a  landscape  picture  such  as 
we  find  not  only  to-day,  but  also  in  the  pictures  of  the 
gardens  around  Pekin  made  long  before  the  Christian 
era.  Travellers  state  that  this  artificial  hill  can  be 
seen  to-day  bearing  the  original  name  King-Khan, 
meaning  Green  Mountain. 

These  studies  of  two  or  three  places  at  Newburgh 
lead  to  the  further  consideration  of  the  value  of  sim- 
plicity and  characteristic  art  in  developing  homes.  The 
ambition  to  make  a  showy  place  that  indicates  the 
possession  of  wealth,  and  the  ability  to  have  what  most 
people  cannot  hope  to  obtain,  or  by  going  to  great 
expense  to  secure  some  feature  in  its  highest  develop- 
ment because  it  has  come  to  be  the  fashion,  may  not 
always  be  desirable.  In  visiting  the  show  places  in 
America,  England,  and  on  the  continent,  much  as  one 
may  be  impressed,  the  feeling  that  finally  gains  the 
upper  hand  is  often  not  unlike  that  of  Sydney  Smith 
in  the  following  quotation : 

"I  went  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  some  years 
ago  to  stay  at  a  very  grand  and  beautiful  place  in 
the  country  where  the  grounds  are  laid  out  with 
consummate  taste.  For  the  first  three  or  four  days 
I  was  perfectly  enchanted;  it  seemed  something  so 
much  better  than  nature  that  I  really  began  to  wish 
the  earth  had  been  laid  out  according  to  the  latest 


70  OLanbscape  Hrcbitecture 

principles  of  improvement  and  the  whole  face  of 
nature  were  a  little  more  the  appearance  of  a  park. 
In  three  days'  time  I  was  tired  to  death;  a  thistle, 
a  nettle,  a  heap  of  dead  bushes,  anything  that  wore 
the  appearance  of  accident  and  want  of  intention, 
was  quite  a  relief.  I  used  to  escape  from  the  made 
grounds  and  walk  upon  an  adjacent  goose  common 
where  the  cart  ruts,  gravel  pits,  bumps,  irregulari- 
ties, coarse  ungentlemanlike  grass,  and  all  the  vari- 
eties produced  by  neglect,  were  a  thousand  times 
more  gratifying  than  the  monotony  of  beauties  the 
result  of  design  and  crowding  with  a  luxuriance  and 
abundance  utterly  unknown  to  nature." 

Although  there  is  no  question  that  many  grand 
estates  have  their  place  and  serve  a  good  purpose,  yet 
the  best  taste  will  often  suggest  something  quite  differ- 
ent, as  may  be  seen  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  and 
the  great  park  at  Muskau,  Germany.  As  much  beauty 
and  display  as  belong  to  an  intelligently  designed  park 
is  of  course  admissible,  but  it  does  not  therefore  neces- 
sarily place  it  in  the  highest  rank  of  artistic  endeavour. 
In  these  days  of  rapid  accumulation  of  great  wealth 
the  tendency  is  to  develop  wonderful  plant  effects 
rather  than  beautiful,  finely  modulated  landscape 
studies.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  landscape  gardening 
designs  are  generally  nowadays  inferior  to  those  of 
fifty  or  a  hundred  years  ago  such  as  the  creations  made 
by  the  designers  of  Central  Park,  New  York,  and  Park 
Muskau,  and  certain  English  estates ;  but  the  display 


1 1 


rt  •§. 

>  1 

•c  g> 

Q  ^ 


ITbe  SLapfng  ©ut  of  a  parfe  or  Bstate       71 

of  wealth  on  the  modern  estate  has  seemingly  drawn 
much  of  our  attention  from  the  better  work  like  that 
of  the  instances  just  cited.  There  has  been,  however, 
a  gradual  evolution  of  the  best  ideas  of  landscape 
gardening, — and  the  work  of  fifty  years  ago  is  better 
in  some  places  than  it  was  fifty  years  before  that  time; 
and  some  of  our  work  is  still  better  to-day  than  ever. 
While  it  may  be  true,  as  Leibnitz  says,  that  nature 
never  makes  leaps,  it  must  nevertheless  be  conceded 
that  at  the  present  time,  when  we  are  more  highly  in- 
structed than  ever  before,  we  do  not  seem  to  be  able  to 
advance  as  rapidly  and  as  persistently  as  we  should,  and 
have  not  yet  attained  to  the  high  standards  which  have 
been  so  commonly  professed.  Perhaps  we  are  too  aca- 
demic, too  bound  down  by  precedent,  not  always  of  the 
best  and  simplest  sort.  Our  work  of  this  kind  is  not  al- 
ways worthy  of  our  traditions.  It  may  be  indeed  a  period 
of  slack  water,  but  it  is  nevertheless  sure  that  there  is 
good  work  being  done,  the  value  of  which  will  be  evi- 
dent as  time  goes  on.  "To  an  even  greater  extent,  the 
present  assimilates  the  past,  and  can  no  longer  remain 
subject  to  the  changing  wishes  and  caprices  of  to-day; 
the  past  is  taking  on  a  new  meaning  for  us  and  we  are 
finding  that  amid  all  that  was  peculiar  to  their  own 
age,  there  was  some  element  in  them  that  transcended 
time  and  could  be  transmitted  to  all  times/'  Surely 
we  could  not  so  link  the  landscape  gardening  of  to-day 
with  that  of  former  ages,  if  there  were  not  "  the  same 
eternal  order  operating  there  and  here,  an  order  in 
which  all  that  is  deepest  in  human  nature  has  its  root." 


72  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

The  trouble  is,  that  the  designers  of  our  country  places 
are  oppressed,  perhaps  unconsciously,  at  the  present  day 
by  a  false  kind  of  erudition  and  their  work  too  often 
lacks  personality.  "All  art  speedily  declines  so  soon  as 
it  ceases  to  be  continuously  re-created,  so  the  present 
must  in  the  last  resort  shape  its  own  life.  Its  relation 
to  the  past  is  not  something  fixed  and  given;  it  has 
always  to  be  ascertained  anew.  The  present  will  always 
mould  its  conception  and  judgment  of  the  nature  of 
the  past  by  its  own  conviction  of  the  value  of  the  work 
it  is  doing."  Thus  speaking  from  the  point  of  view  of 
a  landscape  architect,  the  past  is  by  no  means  a  finished 
story.  It  is  always  open  to  the  present  to  discover, 
to  stir  up  something  new  in  it.  "Even  the  past  is  still 
in  the  making." 

In  order  to  realize  what  has  been  given  to  the  land- 
scape architecture  of  the  present  day  to  enable  it  to 
reach  a  higher  plane  of  development  than  ever  before, 
let  us  survey  the  present  condition  of  the  art.  We  will 
find  that  we  have  a  broader  basis  for  its  practice,  more 
vigour  of  movement,  an  exhaustless  profusion  of  con- 
structions and  examples  for  our  consideration;  in  ad- 
dition we  are  securing  a  clearer  insight  and  a  more 
balanced  judgment;  finally  we  are  gaining  an  incen- 
tive to  follow  up  for  ourselves  the  clue  that  has  been 
transmitted  to  us,  a  call  to  co-operate  actively  in  the 
great  undertaking  of  creating  landscape-gardening  work 
of  high  character. 

Nobody  can  deny  that  in  the  modern  renaissance 
of  landscape  gardening  and  its  evolution  and  adapta- 


i* 


o| 

s  s. 


rt  a 

w     >> 


Ube  Xasina  ©ut  of  a  park  or  Estate       73 

tion  to  new  conditions  of  life,  there  has  come  a  growing 
and  hopeful  tendency  towards  individual  development, 
to  the  bestowal  of  a  definite  personality  to  work  of 
this  character.  By  the  small  owner  as  well  as  the 
prosperous  man  of  affairs,  or  of  elegant  leisure,  there 
is  an  increasing  effort  to  carry  out  his  own  ideas  on  his 
own  place.  The  emphasis  of  personality  has  come  in 
spite  of  all  to  be  a  deep  note  of  the  landscape  gardening 
of  the  present  day.  Whatever  we  have  of  it  is  a  hope- 
ful sign,  although  it  also  has  its  drawbacks. 

So  wide  has  been  the  interest  in  horticulture,  so  great 
has  been  the  development  of  trees  and  shrubs  and  flow- 
ers, that  the  value  of  the  basic  ideas  that  should  always 
be  kept  in  view  in  the  practice  of  the  art  has  been 
partially  left  in  abeyance  or  lost  sight  of.  Some  sacri- 
fice doubtless  is  needed.  Those  who  are  interested  in 
landscape  must  forgo  somewhat  of  their  regard  for 
extraordinary  floral  and  arboreal  effects,  and  return  to 
the  study  of  the  ideas  that  lie  at  the  foundation  of  the 
art.  "No  one  can  advance  without  surrender,  no  one 
can  gain  without  losses,  no  one  can  reach  great  goals 
without  giving  up  many  things  in  themselves  desirable.'* 
An  extraordinary  horticultural  effect  may  be  in  itself 
desirable,  yet  it  may  be  positively  unsuited  to  the 
landscape  scheme  adopted.  There  is  a  rivalry  of  the 
horticultural  and  the  strictly  landscape  gardening 
effects  which  no  one  making  an  estate  can  escape,  for 
in  order  to  achieve  success  in  one  typical  line  another 
possible  line  may  have  to  be  sacrificed.  Moreover, 
the  landscape  architect  has  to  employ  his  weapons  on 


74  3LanD0cape  Brcbitecture 

the  side  of  truth  and  nature,  and  these  very  weapons, 
sharpened  by  intelligence  and  experience,  have  to  be 
continually  rediscovered  and  refashioned  to  fit  the 
facts  and  ideas  the  present  stage  of  the  development 
of  the  art  has  found  and  verified.  Not  only  is  there 
less  pure  imitation  but  there  is  a  better  realization  of 
the  truth  of  the  words  of  Nicholas  de  Cusa  written 
more  than  four  hundred  years  ago :  ' '  There  is  nothing 
in  the  universe  that  does  not  enjoy  a  certain  singularity 
which  is  to  be  found  in  no  other  thing."  But  there  is 
more  to  be  done  than  to  impress  one's  own  personality 
on  a  place.  That  alone  will  not  suffice.  "The  more 
experience  advances  the  more  there  is  of  adaptation 
of  environment  as  well  as  adaptation  to  environment." 
An  estate  should  have  due  attention  paid  to  the  reten- 
tion as  far  as  possible  of  any  essential  charm  it  may 
possess,  but  the  owner  should,  at  the  same  time,  feel 
entire  liberty  to  impress  his  or  her  personality  on  the 
place  to  any  degree  that  will  not  destroy  that  supreme 
quality,  "the  genius  of  the  place."  A  natural  scene 
may  be  beautiful  in  itself,  without  change,  but  change, 
if  it  be  personal  and  human  in  its  origin,  increases  the 
charm  of  the  place  for  most  people,  tenfold.  What 
would  Wordsworth's  descriptions  of  nature  be  without 
the  human  note? 

The  following  reference  to  an  actual  place  in  the 
country  will  perhaps  give  a  better  illustration  of  what 
I  mean.  A  little  cottage  in  the  hills,  it  is  about  five 
miles  back  of  the  Hudson  and  ten  or  twelve  miles  from 
the  northern  border  of  New  York  City.  It  occupies 


d 

fc   | 

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i  I 

!1 


3Lasfn0  ©ut  of  a  parfe  or  Estate       75 

only  a  nook  of  three  quarters  of  an  acre,  high  enough 
to  dominate  a  fine  view  to  the  north,  and  entirely 
secluded  on  a  steep  narrow  back  road  embowered  with 
many  trees.  The  region  is  an  inhabited  one,  but  except 
for  a  house  here  and  there,  it  might  be  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  There  are  hundreds  of  similar  places  within 
fifty  miles  of  New  York  City,  only  most  people  do  not 
look  for  them.  The  dwelling  itself  is  a  small  farmhouse 
of  a  quaint,  yet  familiar,  and  commonplace  character. 
The  purchaser  of  the  place  really  left  the  house  almost 
alone.  A  simple  wing  and  a  stoop  were  added,  also 
closets,  cupboards,  and  some  changes  of  partitions. 
The  exterior  was  little  changed,  except  for  a  coat  of 
paint.  Even  plumbing  was  left  out,  and  yet  the  owner 
and  her  friends  and  relatives  often  spend  considerable 
periods  of  time  in  this  little  nook.  The  place  has  a 
wonderful  charm  for  its  owner,  who  has  lived  much 
abroad,  especially  in  Italy.  Her  respect,  however,  for 
the  thoroughly  American  quality  of  the  place,  its  sim- 
plicity and  quaint  natural  beauty  is  great,  and  no 
foreign  fashion  is  allowed  to  mar  its  inherent,  native 
charm;  just  a  plain  old-fashioned  house  near  the  road, 
of  no  special  style  at  all,  not  even  Colonial.  On  the 
steep  sidehill  from  where  the  house  stands  a  narrow 
path  wanders  about  in  somewhat  uncertain  fashion, 
just  to  suit  itself  and  the  flower  garden  of  roses  and 
old-fashioned  perennials  with  some  of  the  herbs  in  a 
bed  by  themselves  that  one  sees  so  often  in  Italy. 
The  path  winds  down  to  a  deep  hollow  where  a  cool 
spring  reposes  in  the  shadow  of  many  trees.  Passing 


76  Olanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

through  this  woods  the  path  leads  to  a  small  knoll 
crowned  by  a  little  group  of  forest  trees,  oaks,  and  sas- 
safras. This  is  called  the  Bosca  of  the  place  where  in 
Italian  fashion  the  family  gather  to  meals  in  pleasant 
weather.  The  homely  vegetables  and  on  the  house  the 
Virginia  creepers  and  grape  vines  keep  the  spirit  of  the 
place  unfalteringly  American.  No  Italian  gardens  and 
pergolas  mar  the  essentially  American  beauty  of  the  scene. 
Just  the  little  grove,  the  Bosca,  with  its  rude  table  and 
benches  and  quaint  oven  in  the  open  made  of  a  few  stones, 
and  the  herb  garden,  scarcely  anything  else  Italian,  and 
yet  you  feel  that  the  owner  loves  Italy,  and  remembers 
Italy,  but  yet  loves  America  still  more  with  its  brave 
simplicity  and  its  absolutely  natural  charm. 

This  makes  only  one  more  instance  of  the  supreme 
value  of  the  application  of  good  landscape-gardening 
ideas  to  "the  genius  of  the  place"  in  all  countries  and 
times,  provided  the  personality  of  the  owner  and  his  other 
idiosyncrasies  receive  due  consideration.  In  this  way, 
one  may  achieve,  at  lesser  or  greater  expense,  a  home  the 
result  of  many  aspirations  born  of  diverse  experiences. 
One  may  have  an  English  or  American  or  French  home 
bearing  evidence  of  the  effects  of  a  strong  personality,  and 
yet  it  may  have  a  touch,  by  no  means  overpowering,  of 
a  more  alien,  and  possibly  more  desirable  style,  whether 
it  be  Italian,  or  Japanese,  or  clearly  semi-tropical  in  effect. 
The  landscape  gardening  thus  becomes  basic  and  uni- 
versal in  its  essential  quality,  and  is  at  the  same  time 
full  of  personality  and  human  feeling. 


Ill 

SIZE  AND  EXTENT  OF  AN  ESTATE 

IT  should  appear  from  what  has  been  already  said 
that  a  beautiful  piece  of  landscape  gardening  may 
be  of  many  sizes  from  the  village  yard  to  the 
estate  of  thousands  of  acres. 

Many  considerations,  however,  need  weighing  in 
each  case,  although  the  general  laws  of  arrangement 
hold  true  throughout.  These  laws  consist  in  the  estab- 
lishment of  certain  types  of  treatment,  each  a  unit, 
all  varied  continually,  lapping  over,  contrasting  with 
and  contradicting  each  other ;  built  on  the  lines  of  nature 
yet  really  not  nature,  but  nevertheless  faithful  to  her 
spirit.  The  treatment  of  these  various  large  or  small 
country  places  and  village  lawns  is  chiefly,  therefore, 
a  question  of  relations  between  different  parts. 

Therefore  there  should  be  a  proper  rhythm  in  these 
relations,  a  spacing,  a  notation  that  naturally  applies  to 
all  kinds  of  design  whether  it  be  music,  poetry,  painting, 
architecture,  or  landscape  gardening.  The  true  spirit 
of  design  lies  in  the  balance  and  poise  of  the  parts, 
their  variation,  whether  rapid  or  slow,  tense  and  violent, 

or  suave  and  tranquil. 

77 


78  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

In  the  village  yard  the  sense  of  cosiness,  the  having 
something  of  one's  own  seems  desirable,  and  enclosure 
is  therefore  needed  on  all  sides,  and  the  same  with 
equal  force  applies  to  the  country  place.  How  much 
finer  would  the  village  yards  be  if  this  idea  were  put 
in  practice,  a  bit  of  grass,  bordering  shrubbery,  and 
such  trees  as  the  space  will  allow,  and,  instead  of  a 
straight  path  through  the  centre,  one  passing  along 
half  concealed  through  the  foliage,  with,  at  the  feet  of 
the  bushes,  flowers  of  all  kinds,  iris,  etc. 

Then  again  there  may  be  a  little  square  or  green  in 
the  quadrangle  of  a  group  of  cottages:  this  place  does 
not  need  shrubs,  only  trees;  its  charm  lies  in  its  open 
greensward  and  trees.  Prince  Piickler  mentions  an 
instance  in  England : 

"Not  far  from  the  parks  is  an  interesting  estab- 
lishment called  'The  Cottages.'  The  proprietor, 
Mr.  Harford,  has  endeavoured  to  realize  the  beau 
ideal  of  a  village.  A  beautiful  green  space  in  the 
midst  of  a  wood  is  surrounded  by  a  winding  road; 
on  it  are  built  nine  cottages  all  of  different  forms  and 
materials,  stone,  brick,  wood,  and  roofed  with  thatch, 
tiles,  and  slate;  each  surrounded  with  different  trees, 
and  enwreathed  with  various  sorts  of  clematis,  rose, 
honeysuckle,  and  vine.  The  dwellings,  which  are 
perfectly  detached  though  they  form  a  whole,  have 
separate  gardens,  and  a  common  fountain  which 
stands  in  the  centre  of  the  green,  overshadowed  by 
old  trees.  The  gardens,  divided  by  neat  hedges,  form 


Si3e  an&  Extent  of  an  Estate  79 

a  pretty  garland  of  flowers  and  herbs  round  the 
whole  village.  What  crowns  the  whole  is,  that  the 
inhabitants  are  all  poor  families,  whom  the  generous 
proprietor  allows  to  live  in  the  houses  rent  free.  No 
more  delightful  or  well  chosen  spot  could  be  found 
as  a  refuge  for  misfortune:  its  perfect  seclusion  and 
snugness  breathe  only  peace  and  forgetfulness  of  the 
world." 

On  the  other  hand,  when  we  turn  to  larger  places, 
twenty  acres  or  many  thousands  of  acres,  the  same  prin- 
ciples apply  to  the  architectural  and  the  natural  features, 
to  the  high  and  low,  and  broad  and  narrow  masses, 
related  and  contrasted  in  a  hundred  ways.  The  house, 
the  barns  and  stables,  vegetable  gardens,  are  all  given 
due  attention  on  their  practical  side,  for  use  as  well  as 
for  beauty, — nothing  forced,  nothing  seemingly  meant 
for  display,  dignified,  noble,  grand  if  you  will,  but  never 
a  sense  of  strain,  although  full  of  nuances,  full  of  deli- 
cate elusive  beauties.  One  great  picture,  or  a  series 
of  attractive  small  lawns  and  glades,  now  various,  now 
contradictory,  and  now  contrasting. 

Here  are  two  not  altogether  imaginary  instances. 
One  is  a  charming  villa  with  beautiful  outlooks  in 
various  directions  over  Florence  and  the  Arno.  The 
setting  is  formal,  rightly,  and  highly  decorative,  for  it 
is  a  part  of  the  Boboli  Gardens.  Fountains,  beauti- 
ful trees,  everything  choice  and  charming.  But  it  is 
chiefly  as  a  foreground  to  many  views  that  we  value 
it.  One  sits  and  feasts  the  eyes  and  mind  on  the  lovely 


8o  Xanfcscape  Hrcbftecture 

distant  scenes  and  their  many  associations,  and  yet 
one  remains  in  a  resting  place,  a  circumscribed  area. 

In  another  place  we  find  the  location  of  a  house  and 
its  tributary  buildings  made  in  a  dense  woods  where 
the  forest  has  been  cut  away  to  gain  the  necessary  room. 
Here  again  the  basic  law  of  design  applies,  but  how 
differently?  The  open  space  is  made  large  enough  for 
the  buildings,  gardens,  and  lawns  with  their  enclosing 
plantations.  Around  these  open  spaces,  however,  along 
the  border  of  the  woods  are  found  plantations  of  more 
trees  and  shrubs,  running  in  and  out  of  the  forest, 
contrasting,  contradicting,  and  yet  harmonizing  the 
new  with  the  old,  a  fringe  that  straggles,  blends,  and 
loses  itself,  dies  away  so  that  the  natural  scene  may 
still  triumph  and  live;  boundary  lines  that  evidently 
exist  but  hardly  appear.  Such  work  needs  artistic 
training  and  real  knowledge  of  plants,  and  quite  as  great 
is  the  ability  to  open  paths  properly  to  beautiful  glades 
and  fine  groups  of  trees,  or  perhaps  to  a  pool  or  brook  or 
some  picturesque  mass  of  rock.  The  roads  through  such 
regions  should  lead  in  devious  ways,  never  straight,  but 
on  revealing  lines  that  would  inspire  the  imagination  to 
wonder  what  will  be  next  slipping  around  the  corner. 
Doubtless,  most  persons  have  seen  a  straight  vista  cut 
through  woods,  to  allow  some  statue  or  building  to  ap- 
pear at  the  end  of  it.  Read  what  Richard  Jeffries  says 
about  this  in  his  chapter  on  "An  English  Deer  Park": 

"Wide  straight  roads — you  can  call  them  nothing 
else — were  cut  through  the  finest  woods  so  that  on 


A  Distant  Vista  in  the  Park  of  Prince  Piickler  von  Muskau,  Silesia,  Germany. 

From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears,  Providence,  R.  I. 


St3e  anb  JEitent  of  an  Bstate  81 

looking  from  a  certain  window  or  standing  at  a  cer- 
tain spot  in  the  grounds  you  might  see  a  church  tower 
at  the  end  of  the  cutting.  In  some  parks  there  are 
half  a  dozen  such  horrors  shown  to  you  as  a  great 
curiosity;  some  have  a  monument  or  pillar  at  the 
end.  These  hideous  disfigurements  of  beautiful 
scenery  should  be  wiped  out  in  our  day.  The  stiff 
straight  cutting  could  soon  be  filled  up  by  planting 
and  after  a  time  the  woods  would  resume  their 
natural  condition.  Many  common  highway  roads 
are  really  delightful,  winding  through  trees  and  hedge- 
rows with  glimpses  of  hills  and  distant  villages. 
But  these  planned  straight  vistas,  radiating  from  a 
central  spot  as  if  done  by  ruler  and  pen,  at  once 
destroy  the  pleasant  illusion  of  primeval  forest. 
You  may  be  dreaming  under  the  oaks  of  the  chase  of 
Rosalind:  the  moment  you  enter  such  a  vista  all 
becomes  commonplace. " 

The  object  of  these  two  examples  is  to  show  how 
extent  and  space  in  landscape  of  all  sizes,  especially 
the  largest,  can  constitute  many  diverse  and  individual 
problems  and  yet  how  they  should  be  unified  into  one 
scheme  of  landscape  design.  It  should  be  all  simple 
and  yet  almost  infinite  in  its  contrasts  and  harmonies. 
Prince  Puckler  speaks  in  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening 
about  "frozen  music*'  thus: 

"Even  so  one  might  compare  the  higher  garden 
art  with  music,  and  at  least  as  fitly  as  architecture 

6 


82  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

has  been  called  frozen  music,  call  garden  art  grow- 
ing music.  It  too  has  its  symphonies,  adagios,  and 
allegros,  which  stir  the  senses  with  vague  and  power- 
ful emotions.  Further,  as  Nature  offers  her  features 
to  the  landscape  gardener  for  use  and  choice,  so  does 
she  offer  to  music  her  fundamental  tones,  beautiful 
like  the  human  voice,  the  song  of  birds,  the  thunder 
of  the  tempest,  the  roaring  of  the  hurricane,  the 
bodeful  wailing  of  branches — ugly  sounds  like  howl- 
ing, bellowing,  clattering,  and  squeaking,  yet  the 
instruments  bring  all  these  out  and  work  according 
to  circumstances,  ear  splitting  in  the  hands  of  the 
incompetent,  entrancing  when  arranged  by  the  artist 
in  an  orderly  whole.  The  genial  nature  painter 
(landscape  architect)  does  the  same.  He  studies 
the  manifold  material  given  him  by  nature,  and  works 
the  scattered  parts  by  his  art  into  a  beautiful  whole 
whose  melody  flatters  the  senses,  but  only  unfolds 
its  highest  powers  and  yields  the  greatest  enjoyment 
when  harmony  has  breathed  true  soul  into  the  work." 

This  is  not  altogether  sentiment.  If  you  do  not 
cut  out  your  woods  in  this  way,  a  way  born  of  much 
study  and  a  good  sense  of  harmony  and  trained  skill, 
you  will  simply  get  the  effects  against  which  Jeffries 
rails,  and  Piickler  exclaims. 

Every  one  of  the  lawns  with  great  outlooks,  or  only 
village  street  scenes,  should  have  the  same  application 
of  contradiction  and  contrast  breaking  into  each  other 
and  finally  producing  the  harmony  of  a  unified  scheme, 


ant>  Extent  of  an  Estate  83 

a  design  which  has  rhythm  and  flow.  The  important 
thing  is  to  keep  the  mind  fixed  on  the  broad  outlines, 
the  articulation  of  any  place,  even  the  smallest,  its 
bones  and  sinews,  and  not  allow  oneself  to  be  diverted 
to  producing  more  or  less  petty  effects  where  a  large 
one  should  be  accomplished,  setting  out  some  rare  or 
curious  free  or  shrub  where  it  does  not  belong,  just 
because  you  have  a  whim  to  set  it  there.  The  improper 
use  of  rocks,  water,  and  paths  and  roads  creates  a  strain 
and  an  incongruity  that  is  not  the  contradiction  and 
contrast  that  makes  for  harmony  within  the  scheme 
of  the  landscape  design.  The  artistic  effect  sought 
should  be  just  as  refined  and  rare  and  delicate  as  that  of 
a  Constable  landscape. 

Perhaps  the  ordinary  man,  the  man  of  the  street, 
may  believe  he  cannot  achieve  the  desired  result. 
Perhaps  he  cannot.  The  longer  he  works  at  it,  however, 
the  more  beauties  he  will  discover  he  can  bring  into 
being,  and  the  more  he  tries  the  more  he  will  want  to 
try,  for  it  all  becomes  more  and  more  fascinating  as  he 
brings  out  more  beauty  of  tree  and  shrub  and  flower. 
Many  a  man  has  been  astonished  at  what  he  can  ac- 
complish in  landscape  making.  The  trouble  is  that 
few  think  of  doing  such  work  on  artistic  lines.  They 
simply  set  out  plants  and  grade  grounds  with  what  they 
consider  good  taste.  This  artistic  work  they  think 
belongs  to  the  landscape  architect,  and  doubtless  it 
does,  but  no  man  will  ever  inspire  or  even  assist  the 
designer  in  his  work,  unless  he  follows  and  sustains 
him  intelligently  with  an  appreciation  of  his  effort 


84  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

that  can  only  come  from  actual  love  of  the  work  and 
a  certain  knowledge  possessed  by  himself.  Landscape 
gardening  means,  therefore,  much  more  than  hiring  a 
gardener  to  grade  and  plant  the  lawn,  or  a  consulta- 
tion with  the  tree  agent  about  trees  and  shrubs  to  be 
bought,  and  it  means  much  more  than  the  preparation 
of  plans  of  location  of  buildings,  roads,  and  plantations 
by  some  celebrated  expert;  it  should  really  mean  an 
unceasing  struggle  for  years  to  attain  results  the 
accomplishment  of  which,  with  the  help  of  men,  of 
nature  in  field  and  forest,  and  of  books,  will  prove  an 
unceasing  delight.  Prince  Puckler  worked  at  it  for 
half  a  century,  on  his  estates  at  Moskau  and  elsewhere, 
and  never  ceased  to  enjoy  it  and  to  acquire  fresh  ideas. 
Read  what  he  says  about  the  extent  and  size  of  a  park 
and  it  will  be  evident  at  once  that  he  found  on  artistic 
lines  inspiration  for  the  most  elevated  conceptions 
wrought  out  in  a  duly  ordered  scheme. 
Prince  Puckler  says: 

"In  order  that  the  landscape  gardener  should 
achieve  a  great  effect,  it  is  not  necessary  that  a  park 
should  be  large.  An  extended  estate  is  often  so 
bungled,  so  belittled  by  incompetent  treatment,  that, 
lacking  in  unity,  it  appears  quite  small.  I  may  here 
remark,  by  the  way,  that  I  think  Michael  Angelo 
totally  wrong  when  he  said  about  the  Pantheon,  'Ye 
marvel  at  it  on  the  earth,  I  will  set  it  in  the  heavens.' 
He  meant  thereby  to  achieve  a  more  imposing  effect, 
and  as  he  said,  so  he  did.  He  gave  the  dome  of 


St3e  an&  Extent  of  an  Estate  85 

St.  Peter's  the  same  size  as  the  Pantheon,  but 
how  unfortunate  is  the  result!  Looming  up  in 
the  air  above  the  enormous  masses  of  the  building, 
St.  Peter's  Dome  appears  in  proportion  small  and 
insignificant,  whilst  the  dome  of  the  old  Pantheon, 
placed  on  the  right  base,  appears  after  centuries 
as  sublime  as  the  arch  of  the  firmament. 

"Poised  on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc  the  Pyra- 
mids would  hardly  appear  as  large  as  sentry  boxes, 
and  Mont  Blanc  itself,  seen  from  the  distant  plains, 
looks  like  a  little  snow  hill.  Large  and  small  are, 
therefore,  relative  terms.  It  is  not  from  the  thing 
itself  we  judge,  but  from  its  appearance  in  given 
surroundings,  and  it  is  here  that  landscape  archi- 
tecture has  the  widest  of  fields.  For  instance,  trees 
a  hundred  feet  high,  which  in  the  middle  distance 
hardly  rise  above  the  horizon,  will  at  a  short  distance 
tower  above  it,  hence,  with  intelligent  management, 
with  due  appreciation  of  the  value  the  foreground 
has  to  distance,  it  is  possible  to  give  character  and 
expression  to  the  landscape  and  secure  an  effect  of 
grandeur  and  extent. 

"I  cannot  help  remarking  here  that  if  I  have  al- 
ways held  up  as  a  model  the  general  appearance  of 
English  parks,  which  testify  to  a  universally  diffused 
taste  for  park  culture  and  embellishment,  I  still  be- 
lieve that  in  given  ways  England  might  have  done 
much  better.  It  seems  to  me  that  with  much  beauty 
most  English  parks  have  one  blemish  which  makes 
them  rather  tedious  and  monotonous  on  long  ac- 


86  3Lant>scape  Hrcbitecture 

quaintance.  I  have  in  mind  neither  their  pleasure 
grounds,  nor  their  gardens,  which  are  full  of  variety, 
but  their  parks.  For  instance,  in  regard  to  the  de- 
liberate treatment  of  these  parks  as  features  laid  out 
on  a  diminutive  scale,  the  effect  seems  to  be  altogether 
inadequate  when  compared  to  the  grandeur  and 
magnificence  of  the  open  country  round  them.  In- 
deed, in  my  opinion,  the  outside  country  not  infre- 
quently resembles  far  more  a  region  ennobled  by  art 
in  variety  than  the  parks. 

"I  have  previously  stated  the  proposition  that  size 
is  not  an  absolutely  necessary  element  in  the  making 
of  a  park,  yet  where  it  is  possible,  I  think  it  very 
desirable,  in  order  that  a  greater  variety  of  parts 
be  gained,  a  quality  which  will  always  present  the 
supreme  charm  of  novelty.  Laid  out  with  equal 
intelligence  I  should  always  prefer  the  more  exten- 
sive to  the  smaller  park,  even  if  the  latter  should  be 
more  favoured  by  nature.  In  Prussia,  where  land 
has  so  much  less  value  than  in  other  countries,  such 
large  estates  are  easily  obtainable,  and  I  advise 
every  one  of  my  countrymen  to  strive  for  large  places. 
It  is  certain  that,  considered  as  a  little  world  sufficient 
unto  itself,  a  park  where  one  cannot  ride  or  drive  for 
an  hour  at  least  without  going  over  the  same  roads, 
and  which  does  not  comprise  many  more  walks, 
very  soon  tires  one,  if  confined  to  it  alone.  But 
where  a  rich  picturesque  nature  has  already  idealized 
the  region  around  and  has  made  it,  as  it  were,  into  a 
great  work  of  art,  as  in  the  case  of  many  parts  of 


Si3e  anfc  JExtent  of  an  Estate  87 

Switzerland,  Italy,  South  Germany,  or  Silesia,  then 
I  am,  on  the  whole,  of  the  opinion  that  projects  of 
parks  are  hors  d'&uvre.  It  would  be  like  a  little 
landscape  in  the  corner  of  a  magnificent  Claude 
Lorrain.  There  one's  work  should  be  confined  to  the 
laying  out  of  good  roads  so  that  the  enjoyment  of 
such  rare  scenery  be  made  easier,  while  here  and 
there  taking  down  some  isolated  trees  in  order  to  open 
views  which  are  hidden  by  nature,  always  indifferent 
to  the  display  of  her  beauties. 

"Near  the  house,  however,  one  should  seek  for 
the  charm  of  a  garden  of  modest  proportions,  which, 
whenever  possible,  would  contrast  with  nature  around. 
In  such  a  garden  one  should  have  in  view  not  so  much 
the  variety  of  a  landscape,  but  comfort  and  charm, 
safety  and  elegance.  The  garden  art  of  the  Romans, 
which  through  the  study  of  the  classical  writers, 
and  especially  through  the  description  which  Pliny 
gives  of  his  villa,  again  came  into  practice  in  the 
fifteenth  century  in  Italy,  and  was  later  altered  into 
the  so-called  French  gardens,  into  colder,  less  com- 
fortable forms,  deserves  particular  consideration  on 
this  very  point.  This  rich  and  sumptuous  art, 
which  may  be  called  an  extension  of  the  art  of  archi- 
tecture from  the  house  into  the  garden,  or,  as  the 
English  might  say,  the  approach  of  the  landscape 
to  the  very  doors  of  the  house,  may  be  most  suitably 
applied  to  this  purpose.  Imagine,  for  instance, 
among  the  precipices  and  waterfalls,  the  dark  pine 
woods,  and  blue  glaciers  of  mountainous  Switzerland, 


88  SLanfcscape  Hrcbftecture 

a  classical,  antique  building,  a  palace  from  the  Strada 
Balbi,  sumptuous  in  its  decorative  flourishes,  sur- 
rounded with  high  terraces,  rich  multi-coloured 
parterres  of  flowers,  studded  with  marble  statues 
and  alive  with  the  movement  of  waters;  what  a 
contrast  would  this  be  to  the  tremendous  naked 
grandeur  of  the  setting  of  mountains?  A  few  steps 
aside  in  the  woods,  and  palace  and  gardens  would 
have  vanished  from  view,  as  by  a  magic  wand,  to 
make  room  again  for  the  undisturbed  loneliness  and 
majestic  wilderness  of  nature.  Farther  on,  perhaps, 
a  bend  in  the  road  would  open  up  an  unexpected 
vista,  where,  in  the  distance,  the  work  of  art  like  a 
realized  fairy  dream  would  show  through  the  dark 
firs,  glowing  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun,  or  rising 
up  over  the  mysterious  darkness  of  the  valley  in  a 
mass  where,  here  and  there,  the  tiny  sparkles  of 
lighted  candles  would  glow.  Would  not  such  a  pic- 
ture be  wonderful,  and  owe  its  chief  beauty  largely 
to  contrast?  When  nature  offers  her  material,  the 
scheme  must  be  different;  then  the  park,  an  oasis  in 
a  broad,  flat  space,  must  first  create  its  own  environ- 
ment. Although  the  same  laws  are  everywhere  the 
foundation  of  beauty,  they  have  to  be  interpreted 
and  expressed  in  various  ways.  In  such  a  case, 
where  no  impression  by  great  contrasts  can  be 
achieved,  one  must  carefully  seek  to  create  a  pleasant 
and  gentle,  general  harmony,  bringing  into  view 
large  elements,  such  as  the  distant  views  which  may 
be  secured,  into  correspondence  with  the  character 


St3e  ant)  Extent  of  an  Estate  89 

given  to  the  park.  In  such  a  problem  the  size  of 
the  domain  becomes  a  chief  consideration.  In  the 
former  example  it  is  only  necessary  to  embellish  a 
single  spot  to  make  all  surrounding  nature  serve  one's 
own  purpose.  Here,  the  treatment  should  extend 
to  the  whole  region.  Examples  which  lie  between 
these  two  schemes  will  require  modifications  of  both 
propositions  and  be  tastefully  treated  according  to 
the  respective  localities.  In  all  these  cases  the 
principles  I  have  laid  down  are  basic  ones." 

Finally,  careful  consideration  should  be  given  to 
the  dimensions  of  an  estate  or  park  with  regard  to  the 
limitations  that  the  topography,  the  hills  and  wood- 
land and  water  naturally  impose  on  the  purchaser.  It 
is  easy  for  a  person  of  means  to  add  field  unto  field, 
but  the  question  is,  does  he  secure  thereby  an  estate 
or  park  that  naturally  fits  into  a  well-considered  land- 
scape scheme? 

If  this  cannot  be  done,  it  would  be  wise  to  abandon 
the  scheme  altogether  and  go  elsewhere,  or  else  accept 
the  limitations  of  the  smaller  place. 

Nothing  is  more  important  than  the  establishing  in 
the  beginning  the  proper  boundaries  to  a  place.  Time 
and  study  and  the  best  advice  are  well  employed  in 
securing  this  end. 

The  illustration  of  a  view  from  West  Point,  New 
York,  called  the  Gates  of  the  Highlands,  is  given  to 
show  to  what  extent  the  eye  can  reach  and  feel  that  it 
contains  within  its  domain  a  definite  landscape  picture. 


90  SLanfcscape  Hrcbftecture 

The  advantage  of  studying  such  a  scene  is  that  you 
have  before  you  a  perfectly  good  model  for  landscape- 
gardening  work  designed  to  any  scale  even  the  small- 
est. It  is  simply  a  grand  example  of  the  way  nature, 
in  her  best  mood,  designs  her  scenery.  The  view  also 
illustrates  how  by  replacing  the  water  of  the  river  by 
grass  you  could  obtain  the  meadow  effect,  with  trees 
and  shrubs  jutting  out  into  the  sea  of  green,  and  thus 
create  the  pastoral  scene  which  as  well  as  the  water 
effect  may  prove  to  be  the  eye  of  the  landscape. 


& 

1 
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c  5 

IS 


II 


IV 

ENCLOSURES 

THE  question  of  fences  is  not  altogether  one  of 
landscape  art,  for  protection  of  this  kind  be- 
comes a  necessity  in  most  countries ;  however,  it 
has  its  advantages  from  the  artistic  standpoint ;  outside 
of  and  beyond  all  the  practical  advantages  of  an  en- 
closure its  landscape  effect  has  value.  It  individualizes 
a  place,  it  sets  a  boundary,  it  marks  the  confines  of 
a  home  or  a  possession,  if  it  does  nothing  more.  It 
indicates  that  the  frame  of  the  picture  is  here,  and  the 
enclosure  warns  one  and  all  that  here  they  must  stop, 
and  go  no  farther  except  as  the  proprietor  may  allow 
them  the  freedom  of  his  domain  for  picnics,  cross-cut 
paths,  and  various  other  privileges.  Landscape  art 
should  seek  to  plant  out  and  shut  out  in  great  part  the 
boundary  walls  or  fences  and  allow  only  occasional 
glimpses  to  prove  that  they  exist  and  are  performing 
their  proper  function. 

There  is  a  tendency  at  the  present  time  to  favour 
the  open  lawn  scheme  where  a  dozen  houses  or  more 
show  no  boundary  line  between  them  except  the  sur- 
veyor's monuments.  These  places  are  generally  com- 

91 


92  Xanfcscape  Htcbitectute 

paratively  small,  and  throwing  them  all  together  into 
one  lawn  is  thought  to  make  a  better  display  of  what- 
ever beauty  they  may  possess,  or  that  may  be  added 
to  them  by  planting  trees  and  shrubs  and  flowers. 
But  it  will  be  found  on  studying  the  situation  in  the 
light  of  the  laws  of  landscape  design  that  a  number  of 
these  buildings,  included  together  and  owned  by  per- 
sons of  diverse  interests  and  tastes,  will  not  lend  them- 
selves successfully  to  one  landscape  scheme.  The 
variety  of  human  interests  create  contrasts  and  con- 
tradictions that  will  not  come  into  harmony  with  each 
other  on  account  of  the  "personal  equation,"  the 
difference  of  make-up  of  the  owners.  Theoretically  it 
is  a  beautiful  idea  and  seems  practicable,  but  to  obtain 
a  really  artistic  effect  in  this  way,  no,  it  is  not  likely 
to  be  done.  People  may  fancy  they  have  lawns  with 
many  houses  and  owners,  in  one  great  enclosure,  that  is 
satisfactory,  but  the  probability  is  that  they  do  not 
know  a  well-designed  lawn  when  they  see  it,  and  think 
they  have  something  which  they  have  not. 

The  intimate  way  of  treating  the  small  home  will 
really  commend  itself  to  everyone  who  is  not  led  away  by 
the  influence  of  a  caprice  or  fashion.  It  gives  the  surest 
way  of  securing  the  most  comfort  and  pleasure  for  the 
dweller  under  his  own  vine  and  fig  tree.  With  wire  fence 
covered  with  vines  entirely,  or  a  rough  wall  of  stone, 
quarry  stone,  uncut,  with  the  interstices  devoid  of  ce- 
ment and  filled  with  rich  earth  and  rock  plants,  stone- 
crop,  prickly  pear,  and  other  rock  plants,  the  home  be- 
comes one's  very  own.  Flowers  cluster  around  the  base 


^Enclosures  93 

of  the  wall,  or  honeysuckle  fence,  and  shrubs  partially 
screen  it,  and  the  lawn  within  becomes  a  park  in  mini- 
ature, its  design  obedient  to  park  laws.  Everything 
would  naturally  be  in  proportion,  trees  and  shrubs  of 
moderate  and  even  dwarf  growth  finding  place  on  the 
smallest  lawn.  There  is  likely  on  the  small  place  to 
be  danger  of  overcrowding,  for  there  should  be  a 
breadth  of  grass  plot  or  lawn  sufficient  to  make  the 
place  look  larger  rather  than  smaller  than  it  really  is. 
The  sense  of  comparative  breadth  can  always  be  main- 
tained in  the  smallest  place. 

It  should  hardly  need  repeating  that  a  boundary 
enclosure  of  this  kind  should  have  along  its  borders 
shrubs  and  trees  so  arranged  as  to  not  only  carry  out 
the  general  law  of  design,  but  to  reveal  at  intervals 
brief  glimpses  over  the  boundary  to  pleasing  objects 
beyond. 

A  fence  is  generally  an  unattractive  part  of  the 
landscape.  It  is  artificial,  no  matter  how  it  is  designed, 
whether  of  iron,  wood,  or  stone.  Wire  fastened  to 
iron  posts  makes  a  cheap  fence  that  will  last  at  least 
twenty  years  in  many  cases,  but  it  is  ugly.  Cover  it 
with  honeysuckles  and  it  is  beautiful.  There  can  be 
little  objection  to  any  fence,  if  covered  with  vines  or 
other  vegetation,  especially  if  trees  and  shrubs  lend 
the  support  of  their  protecting  and  screening  foliage. 
The  fence  then  becomes  quite  as  attractive  as  any 
other  part  of  the  place,  especially  as  it  need  not  shut  out, 
and  indeed  never  should  entirely  shut  out,  important 
views  of  spaces  exterior  and  beyond. 


94  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

A  small  place  especially  if  enclosed  as  it  should  be 
ought  to  have  nothing  spectacular  about  it,  no  showy 
plants,  trees  or  shrubs  or  flowers,  set  out  solely  for 
display.  If  there  is  a  proper  place  for  them  in  the 
landscape  scheme,  use  them,  but  not  otherwise.  No 
grottoes,  no  rock  work  unless  rocks  crop  out  of  the  soil, 
no  pergolas  unless  an  arbour  is  wanted  for  a  grape 
vine,  and  then  it  only  finds  a  proper  place  in  the  general 
scheme  provided  it  is  perfectly  simple.  All  more  or 
less  theatrical  arrangements  only  make  the  enclosure 
seem  more  confined  and  unnatural. 

In  the  case  of  the  large  place  there  may  be  a  series 
of  lawns  unenclosed,  groups  of  buildings,  mansion  re- 
gion, farm  region,  woodland  of  vast  extent;  then  the 
boundary  lines  disappear  except  where  openings  are 
made  to  disclose  far-distant  scenery  and  then  the  en- 
closures count  little  in  the  scheme.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
a  territory  like  Central  Park  where  the  city  needs  to 
be  shut  out  altogether  because  there  is  nothing  beyond 
to  tempt  the  eye.  On  the  other  hand,  on  a  place  like 
Muskau,  Germany,  Prince  Piickler  would  naturally 
seek  to  retain  many  of  his  distant  views  because  they 
were  as  important  to  him  as  those  near  his  house.  In 
so  large  a  place  (thousands  of  acres)  the  enclosures 
would  hardly  mean  much  except  when  one  went  near 
them. 

"I  have  often  heard  the  opinion  expressed  that 
nothing  is  more  contrary  to  the  way  of  nature — 
which  is,  after  all,  what  landscape  gardening  seeks 


Enclosures  95 

to  conform  itself  to — than  the  enclosures  of  a  park, 
but  I  think  otherwise,  and  quite  approve  of  the 
English  fashion  of  having  every  park  enclosed  with 
great  care,  but  this  enclosure  should  be  varied  and 
in  large  part  it  should  not  be  felt  inside  the  park. 
At  bottom  this  question  of  enclosure  is  rather  a 
matter  of  expediency  than  of  aesthetics,  and  yet  as 
an  element  of  beauty  I  do  not  condemn  it.  Are 
not  such  beautiful  uncultivated  spots  marked  off 
as  it  were  by  distinct  boundaries,  and  does  not  such 
a  division  often  increase  their  charm?  For  example, 
a  valley  shut  in  by  a  dense  forest  or  impassable  rocks, 
an  island  surrounded  by  running  water,  give  the 
feeling  of  home,  of  entire  possession,  of  security 
against  intrusion  or  disturbance,  allowing  us  to 
enjoy  all  the  more  comfortably  the  beauty  of  the 
surroundings.  And,  therefore,  in  a  park  the  pre- 
sence of  a  protecting  wall  or  fence  should  be  wel- 
comed as  a  highly  desirable  element,  necessary  for 
the  peace  and  security  of  our  enjoyment  in  excluding 
the  unwelcome  intruder,  but  which  should  be  so 
contrived  as  to  permit  us  to  go  out  from  the  park  into 
the  surrounding  country.  Hence  the  sight  of  an 
enclosure  can  only  be  obnoxious  to  those  who  hold 
so  exaggerated  a  notion  of  freedom  that,  hating 
everything  that  bears  the  name  of  barrier,  they 
would  wish  to  overturn  even  imaginary  barriers! 
In  England,  as  I  have  said  before,  not  only  every 
park,  but  on  account  of  the  precious  cattle,  every 
section  of  it,  every  coppice  and  every  exposed  young 


96  !Hanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

tree  is  surrounded  with  a  fence,  and  although  this 
disturbs  the  general  effect  by  being  carried  to  excess, 
I  have  frequently  found  that  here  and  there  a  fence 
is  very  picturesque,  especially  where  the  character 
of  the  landscape  changes,  the  fence  in  this  case  pre- 
paring the  mind  for  new  impressions  and  affording 
an  easy  transition  to  new  scenes. 

"So  for  security's  sake  let  our  parks  have  an  en- 
closure high  and  strong,  assuming  that  this  is  pos- 
sible— for  to  be  sure,  just  as  French  cookery  books 
very  wisely  begin  their  receipts  with  lAyez  une 
carpe,  ayez  un  perdreau,'  etc.,  I  preface  my  advice 
with  the  proviso  that,  locality  being  favourable  and 
means  at  hand,  the  park  should  be  enclosed.  But 
inasmuch  as  the  heavier  and  bigger  the  wall,  the 
worse,  as  a  rule,  is  its  appearance,  and  bearing  in 
mind  also  that  it  is  a  great  mistake  to  limit  the  field 
of  fancy  by  too  familiar  a  view  of  its  limits,  a  close 
and  broad  plantation  should  hide  the  greater  part 
of  it.  If  such  a  barrier  is  made  by  a  wooden  fence 
it  should  never  be  seen,  but  supplied  with  interesting 
points  at  intervals,  and  a  deep  ha-ha,  or  ditch,  along- 
side, while  all  the  abruptness  of  the  hollow  thus  made 
can  be  avoided  by  covering  it  with  varied  plantations. 
The  paths  should  only  approach  this  ha-ha  or  ditch 
when,  for  instance,  by  means  of  a  small  bridge,  one 
wishes  to  sally  forth  through  an  opening  into  the 
surrounding  country.  The  manner  of  screening  the 
bridge  and  the  boundaries  should  be  as  varied  as 
possible.  In  one  place  the  foliage  should  run  two 


Enclosures  97 

or  three  hundred  paces  along  the  boundaries,  showing 
a  high  plantation  of  trees:  in  other  places  again  it 
should  be  made  up  of  narrower  and  lower  groups  of 
trees  so  that  over  and  beyond  one  can  catch  glimpses 
of  the  outside  country.  In  other  places,  these  far- 
distant  views  should  be  visible  above  coppices  and 
under  isolated  trees,  standing  from  among  but  high 
above  the  shrubbery.  If  a  wall  surrounds  the  park 
this  can,  at  intervals,  be  allowed  freely  to  emerge, 
broken  only  by  scattering  bushes  and  trees,  and  will 
look  best  in  a  ruined  or  unkempt  state,  covered  with 
ivy  and  Virginia  creeper,  or  let  the  foliage  be  merged 
into  a  building,  a  gallery,  etc.  Under  such  condi- 
tions the  wall  will  never  be  a  disturbing  influence, 
but  an  improvement. 

"Along  this  plantation  on  the  boundary,  some- 
times broad,  sometimes  narrow,  but  hardly  ever 
more  than  3  ruihen  (48  feet),  should  run  irregularly 
a  grass  road  24  feet  wide.  On  the  side  towards  the 
interior  of  the  park  begins  the  mixed  plantation  for 
forming  a  screen  for  the  general  view.  Here  decid- 
uous-leaved trees  predominate  and  in  summer  hide 
the  too  monotonous  evergreen  foliage  which  should 
be  left  conspicuous  only  where  it  is  desirable.  It  is 
surprising  how  such  an  arrangement  enlivens  a  park 
even  in  melancholy  winters,  and  how  the  lawn  or 
grass  path  even  amid  snow  and  ice,  where  everything 
else  is  bare,  makes  the  most  charming  walk.  The 
evergreen  foreground  which  covers  the  boundaries 
both  winter  and  summer  and  borders  the  grass  path 


98  3lant>scape  Hrcbitecture 

gives  colour  to  the  whole  region,  and  supplies  a  want 
greatly  sought  after  in  winter  days,  although  a  well 
grouped  and  designed  park  should,  even  without 
colour,  during  all  seasons  of  the  year,  satisfy  our 
sense  of  beauty,  especially  in  winter  when  all  ordinary 
decoration  is  absent,  making  an  interesting  picture 
by  the  harmony  of  its  masses  of  trees,  lawns,  water, 
its  pleasant  lines  of  paths  and  banks.  That  the 
border  plantation  of  pines  and  other  evergreen  trees 
should  be  planted  so  as  to  appear  a  natural  growth 
is  obvious,  and  in  the  chapter  on  Plantations  examples 
will  be  given  in  detail.  Meanwhile  the  sketch  in  Plate 
I.  will  make  my  views  clearer.  At  a  the  green  path 
from  the  park  is  practically  hidden,  at  b  it  appears 
only  as  a  cutting  which  loses  itself  in  the  shrubbery. 

"Along  the  boundary  wall  of  many  English  parks, 
where  was  carried  out  in  old  times  the  work  of  Brown 
and  his  followers,  there  runs  a  path  between  an  almost 
regular  band  of  foliage  planted  with  shrubs  and  trees, 
so  that  the  wall  is  often  conspicuous  between  the 
tree  trunks. 

"My  reader  must  not  confound  my  plan  with 
this  English  plan,  as  the  green  path  I  advocate  is  a 
part  of  the  lawn,  and  has  no  definite  distinction  from 
the  lawn,  but  simply  melts  into  it.  The  English 
idea  originated  in  the  infancy  of  landscape  gardening, 
when  parks  of  such  size  were  first  laid  out,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  vanity  to  make  them  appear  as  large  as 
possible;  but  the  means  defeated  the  end,  since  they 
ostentatiously  pointed  out  what  they  should  have 


Goethe's  Cottage  at  Weimar. 
Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 


A  Honeysuckle  Hedge  Growing  on  Wire  Mesh  and  Iron  Posts. 


Enclosures  99 

artistically  concealed.  Apart  from  this  enclosure, 
which  is  necessary  for  protection,  it  is  obvious  that 
every  interesting  feature  of  the  distant  landscape 
should  be  included  in  the  park,  all  outer  rays  con- 
centrating into  this  focus.  Distant  views  of  great 
extent  lying  way  beyond  the  actual  grounds  give  an 
appearance  of  measureless  extent.  When  such  op- 
portunities are  skilfully  utilized  they  greatly  surpass 
the  reality.  They  must,  however,  be  so  managed 
that  one  should  never  become  aware  of  the  intervening 
park  boundaries.  Moreover  such  special  features 
should  never  be  seen  twice  in  the  same  way.  For  in- 
stance :  many  partial  glimpses  may  be  given  of  a  dis- 
tant hill,  but  only  once  should  the  hill  be  revealed  in  its 
entirety.  The  same  applies  to  the  town  or  city.  Such 
effective  planning,  affording  glimpses  which  tempt 
one's  imagination  and  excite  the  pleasure  of  anticipa- 
tion, and  compositions  in  which  each  part  is  interde- 
pendent, are  far  more  difficult  to  achieve  than  full 
revelations.  When  people  stumble  on  a  remarkably 
beautiful  view  and,  after  lingering  long,  remark, 
'  What  a  pity  that  great  tree  stands  in  the  foreground, 
how  much  more  grand  the  view  would  be  if  it  were  ab- 
sent ' — they  would  be  much  astonished  if  one  did  them 
the  service  to  hew  away  the  condemned  tree.  They 
would  have  a  stretch  of  country  before  them,  but  no 
more  picture — for  a  garden  in  the  great  style  is  really 
a  picture  gallery  and  pictures  demand  a  frame." x 
The  appearance  of  a  fence  made  of  picturesque- 

1  Prince  Piickler,  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening. 


ioo  Hanbscape  Hrcbitecture 

looking  stones  or  a  vine-covered  iron  wire  has  real  value 
as  a  landscape  feature  in  itself.  The  use  of  the  vines 
and  the  stone,  or  the  wire,  are  however  chiefly  a  means 
of  making  known  the  existence  of  a  boundary  line. 
Consequently  the  blending  of  boundary  plantations, 
trees  and  shrubs  and  vines,  should  be  so  complete  as 
to  largely  confine  itself  to  the  suggestion  of  the  presence 
of  a  limit  to  the  place.  There  would  naturally  be 
views  here  and  there,  out  and  beyond,  except  on  oc- 
casions when  discordant  elements  need  shutting  out. 
The  " hedge"  sensation  should  be  eliminated,  and  the 
border  plantation  made  after  the  type  which  in  the 
case  of  trees  and  shrubs  and  flowers  is  intended  to  ap- 
ply to  the  composition  of  every  part  of  the  place.  The 
illustration  showing  a  boundary  fence  on  the  estate  of 
Muskau  is  intended  to  explain  how  the  trees  and  shrubs 
should  be  massed  along  the  boundaries.  The  fence  is 
made  of  wood  and  on  that  account  is  not  altogether 
to  be  commended.  Otherwise,  the  irregularity  of  the 
height  of  the  pickets  gives  it  an  attractive  appearance. 
Carrying  out  the  same  idea,  the  base,  outside  of  the 
fence  bordering  the  sidewalk,  should  be  planted  with 
flowers,  irises,  the  larger  sedums,  saxifrage,  anemones, 
phlox,  and  goldenrod,  with  here  and  there  one  shrub  or 
three; — groups  of  shrubs  planted  in  odd  numbers  al- 
ways compose  better.  The  sidewalk,  in  a  sense, 
belongs  to  the  public  and  therefore  it  would  be  unwise 
to  leave  shrubs  to  be  injured  on  the  curb  line;  other- 
wise the  planting  of  shrub  groups  among  the  shade 
trees  that  border  the  road  would  be  desirable,  because 


Enclosures  101 

even  here  it  is  well  to  follow  out  consistently  the 
typical  scheme  of  planting  that  pertains  to  the  land- 
scape of  the  entire  place.  At  least  we  can  go  far 
towards  retaining  a  natural  effect  by  planting  trees 
on  the  curb  at  unequal  distances — 35  feet — 40  feet — 
45  feet  *and  even  50  feet  or  60  feet  apart.  The  kinds  of 
shade  trees  used  can  also  be  made  to  vary  the  effect, 
not  by  changing  the  species  continually,  but  by  planting 
a  dozen  or  more  of  one  sort  together.  If  the  road 
winds,  it  is  a  good  idea  to  plant  one  kind  from  one  turn 
to  the  next  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see.  The  beauty  of 
this  system  of  irregular  planting,  especially  in  the  case 
of  shrubs  and  flowers,  is  that  any  damage  done  by  the 
public  does  not  produce  such  defacing  effects  as  would 
occur  in  a  symmetrically  formed  group,  or  in  a  hedge. 

It  is  a  fact,  however,  that  a  carefully  worked  out 
group,  an  evidently  foreordained  design  would  be 
more  likely  to  survive  unscathed  than  carelessly  made 
plantations,  the  composition  of  which  is  characterized, 
to  use  a  homely  phrase,  by  neither  rhyme  nor  reason. 
Thoughtless  and  uninstructed  persons  are  apt  to  think 
that  whenever  they  see  a  plantation  along  a  fence  that 
looks  as  if  it  had  sprung  up  there  naturally,  it  must  be 
evident  that  the  arrangement  can  never  have  been  the 
result  of  a  carefully  studied  design. 

This  concealment  of  intention  is  truly  what  ought  to 
be  instinctively  practised  if  the  design  is  good.  But  in 
attempting  to  do  such  work  it  should  be  remembered 
that  every  plant  counts  in  the  scheme  and  that  not  one 
plant  can  be  safely  planted  in  any  haphazard  fashion. 


LOCATION   OF  BUILDINGS 

IN  several  ways  the  spot  where  buildings  are  located 
should  be  controlling.  They  occupy  the  key  to 
the  situation.  Here  most  of  the  time  the  human 
beings  live,  the  men,  women,  and  children,  and  their 
physical  needs  and  comforts  should  be  satisfied  and 
their  mental  and  spiritual  desires,  for  here  man  abides 
and  finds  his  home,  and  if  he  wanders  he  returns  here, 
and  wants  in  this  spot  especially  the  very  best  that  life 
can  give  him.  Consequently,  the  house  must  have  the 
chief  part  of  his  attention,  and  therefore  too  much  care 
cannot  be  given  to  the  choice  of  the  site.  This  is  the 
way  Humphry  Repton  expresses  the  same  idea: 
"However  various  opinions  may  be  on  the  choice  of 
a  situation  for  a  house,  yet  there  appear  to  be  certain 
principles  on  which  such  choice  ought  to  be  founded; 
and  these  may  be  deduced  from  the  following  consider- 
ations: First:  The  natural  character  of  the  surround- 
ing country.  Secondly:  The  style,  character,  and  size 
of  the  house.  Thirdly:  The  aspects  of  exposure,  both 
with  regard  to  the  sun  and  the  prevalent  winds  of  the 
country.  Fourthly:  The  shape  of  the  ground  near 

102 


A  Gardener's  Cottage  at  Skylands — A  Country  Estate  in  New  Jersey. 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  J.  Wilson. 


Windsor  Castle,  England, 
From  an  Old  Print. 


^Location  of  Builbtngs  103 

the  house.  Fifthly:  The  views  from  the  several  apart- 
ments; and  Sixthly:  The  numerous  objects  of  comfort- 
such  as  a  dry  soil,  a  supply  of  good  water,  proper  space 
for  offices,  with  various  other  conveniences  essential  to 
a  mansion  in  the  country,  and  which  in  a  town  may 
sometimes  be  dispensed  with,  or  at  least  very  differently 
disposed. " 

Architects*  advice  is  not  sufficient,  landscape  archi- 
tects should  be  called  in  to  study  the  shape  of  the 
ground  and  to  select  the  place  where  the  lawns  and 
shrubbery  will  make  the  surroundings  of  the  house 
most  convenient  and  comfortable  and  secure  the  best 
landscape  effect.  The  engineer  should  also  advise  as 
to  the  drainage  and  the  chemist  as  to  the  character  of 
the  soil  with  a  view  to  its  fertilization  and  also  as  to  the 
quality  of  the  drinking  water.  It  seems  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  take  to  locate  a  house,  but  the  wise  man 
decides  on  all  these  things  beforehand  and  saves  him- 
self a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  the  end. 

The  architect  naturally  looks  to  the  many  questions 
of  comfort  and  beauty  that  the  landscape  architect 
is  not  necessarily  called  on  to  discuss,  such  as  the  way 
the  sun  comes  in  at  the  windows  and  from  what  quarter 
the  cold  winds  blow.  The  modelling  of  the  land  how- 
ever is  the  landscape  architect's  special  province,  and 
every  pound  of  soil  that  comes  from  the  cellar,  and 
such  other  soil  as  has  to  be  taken  from  elsewhere,  should 
be  under  the  control  of  the  landscape  architect  and  his 
assistants.  To  them  exclusively  should  be  delegated 
this  work,  for  only  in  this  way  can  an  artistic  result 


OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

be  accomplished  satisfactorily  on  the  most  important 
part  of  the  grounds.  On  the  other  hand,  the  architect 
should  be  consulted  by  the  landscape  architect  concern- 
ing the  kind  of  vines  that  should  be  grown  on  the 
house.  Again  we  find  the  contrasting  and  over- 
lapping of  contradictory  elements  in  the  use  of  plants 
of  various  kinds  that  are  needed  over  and  in  the  ver- 
andas and  porticoes  to  produce  harmony  between  the 
house  and  the  adjacent  landscape,  a  sort  of  interlocking 
of  horticultural  and  architectural  features  which  can 
be  made  to  produce  charming  combinations. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  importance  of  this  way  of 
treating  the  site,  read  the  account  of  Tintern  Abbey 
given  by  Prince  Puckler  in  his  Tour  of  England: 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  favour- 
able situation  or  a  more  sublime  ruin.  The  en- 
trance to  it  seems  as  if  contrived  by  the  hand  of 
some  skilful  scene  painter  to  produce  the  most 
striking  effect.  The  church,  which  is  large,  is  still 
almost  perfect,  the  roof  alone  and  a  few  of  the  pillars 
are  wanting.  The  ruins  have  received  just  that 
degree  of  care  which  is  consistent  with  the  full 
preservation  of  their  character;  all  unpicturesque 
rubbish  which  could  obstruct  the  view  is  removed, 
without  any  attempt  at  repair  and  embellishment. 
A  beautiful  smooth  turf  covers  the  ground,  and 
luxuriant  creeping  plants  grow  amid  the  stones. 
The  fallen  ornaments  are  laid  in  picturesque  confu- 
sion, a  perfect  avenue  of  thick  ivy  stems  climbing  up 


location  of  Buildings  105 

the  pillars  and  forming  a  roof  overhead.  The  better 
to  secure  the  ruin,  a  new  gate  of  antique  workman- 
ship with  iron  ornaments  is  put  up.  When  this  is 
suddenly  opened,  the  effect  is  most  striking  and 
surprising.  You  suddenly  look  down  the  avenue  of 
ivy-clad  pillars,  and  see  their  grand  perspective  lines 
closed  at  a  distance  of  three  hundred  feet  by  a  mag- 
nificent window  eighty  feet  high  and  thirty  broad; 
through  the  intricate  tracery  you  see  a  wooded 
mountain  from  whose  side  project  abrupt  masses 
of  rock.  Overhead  the  wind  plays  in  the  garlands 
of  ivy,  and  the  clouds  pass  swiftly  across  the  deep 
blue  sky.  When  you  reach  the  centre  of  the  church, 
whence  you  look  to  the  four  extremities  of  the  cross, 
you  see  the  two  transept  windows  nearby  as  large 
and  as  beautiful  as  the  principal  one;  through  each 
you  command  a  picture  entirely  different,  but  each 
in  the  wild  and  sublime  style  which  harmonizes  so 
perfectly  with  the  building.  Immediately  around 
the  ruin  is  a  luxuriant  orchard.  In  spring  how 
exquisite  must  be  the  effect  of  these  grey  venerable 
walls  rising  out  of  that  sea  of  fragrance  and  beauty. 
A  Vandal  Lord  and  Lord  Lieutenant  of  the  country 
conceived  the  pious  design  of  restoring  the  church. 
Happily  Heaven  took  him  to  itself  before  he  had  time 
to  execute  it. " 

Everything  that  has  been  here  said  about  the  loca- 
tion of  buildings  applies  equally  to  other  buildings  on 
any  place;  the  interlocking  of  vines  and  other  plants 


106  Xanfcscape  Hrcbftecture 

with  the  buildings  can  nearly  always  be  made  to 
accomplish  beautiful  results. 

If  the  estate  be  comparatively  small  the  house  and 
the  outbuildings  should  be  segregated,  grouped  to- 
gether and  planted  with  trees  and  shrubs,  so  as  to  se- 
clude them  from  the  general  landscape.  In  the  case  of 
some  fine  view  it  may  be  wise  to  leave  an  outlook  from 
the  house  into  the  distance.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
trees  and  shrubs  always  help  the  house  where  they 
partially  screen  its  entire  mass  from  view,  only  afford- 
ing glimpses  of  the  roofs  through  the  foliage.  This 
does  not  mean  that  the  trees  and  shrubs  should  be 
allowed  to  smother  the  house,  for  there  should  be  open 
space,  lawns  and  formal  gardens,  near  the  house,  and 
outbuildings,  but  only  that  as  you  approach  it  from 
certain  directions  the  roofs  should  emerge  from  a  mass 
of  foliage. 

One  of  the  most  difficult  problems  to  be  settled  is  the 
height  of  the  first  floors  of  the  principal  living  rooms 
above  the  surrounding  lawn.  This  is  always  a  ques- 
tion that  requires  careful  consideration  both  by  archi- 
tect and  landscape  architect.  An  open  level  space  is 
generally  desirable  for  the  site  of  a  house  unless  it  is 
designed  in  a  special  manner  on  two  or  more  levels, 
and  in  any  case  it  should  not  be  set  on  a  pinnacle  or 
peak  of  ground. 

"All  natural  shapes  of  ground  must  necessarily 
fall  under  one  of  these  descriptions,  viz.,  convex, 
concave,  plane,  or  inclined  plane.  I  will  suppose 


location  of  JSutlbtngs  107 

it  granted  that,  except  in  very  romantic  situations, 
all  the  rooms  on  the  principal  floor  ought  to  range 
on  the  same  level,  and  that  there  must  be  a  platform, 
or  certain  space  of  ground,  with  a  gentle  descent  from 
the  house  every  way.  If  the  ground  be  naturally 
convex,  or  what  is  generally  called  a  knoll,  the  size 
of  the  house  must  be  adapted  to  the  size  of  the 
knoll :  thus  a  small  building  only  one  hundred  feet  in 
front  may  be  placed  upon  such  a  hillock,  with  a 
sufficient  platform  around  it;  but  if  a  building  three 
hundred  feet  long  should  be  required  it  is  evident 
that  the  crown  of  the  hill  must  be  taken  off,  and  then 
the  shape  of  the  ground  becomes  very  different  from 
its  original  form:  for  although  the  small  house  would 
have  a  sufficient  platform,  the  large  one  will  some- 
times be  on  the  brink  of  a  very  steep  bank;  and  this 
difficulty  would  be  increased  by  raising  the  ground  to 
set  the  large  house  on  the  same  level  with  the  smaller 
one.  It  therefore  follows  that  if  the  house  must 
stand  on  a  natural  hillock,  the  building  should  not  be 
larger  than  its  situation  will  admit;  and  where  such 
hillocks  do  not  exist  in  places  proper  for  a  house  in 
every  other  respect,  it  is  sometimes  possible  for  art 
to  supply  what  nature  seems  to  have  denied.  But 
it  is  not  possible  in  all  cases ;  a  circumstance  which 
proves  the  absurdity  of  those  architects  who  design 
and  plan  a  house,  without  any  previous  knowledge  of 
the  situation  or  shape  of  the  ground  on  which  it  is  to 
be  built."1 

1  Humphry  Repton,  Art  of  Landscape  Gardening,  chap,  iii.,  p.  28. 


io8  XanOscape  Hrcbttecture 

Too  great  stress  cannot  be  laid  on  the  advisability  of 
securing  directly  about  the  house  the  highest  degree  of 
horticultural  finish.  Here  should  be  found  the  most 
perfect  turf  (a  difficult  problem),  the  richest  flower 
garden,  the  choicest  and  rarest  evergreens  and  shade 
trees; — these  represent  in  a  way  and  for  the  lawn 
statuesque  beauty  better  than  statues  themselves, 
which  indeed  have  no  place  there.  Richard  Payne 
Knight  wrote  sensibly  on  this  subject  of  landscape  gar- 
dening around  the  house  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  He  was  a  trustee  of  the  British  Museum  and 
a  noted  Greek  scholar,  and  united  with  Sir  Uvedale 
Price  in  reacting  against  the  extremes  and  exaggerations 
of  the  landscape  school  of  Brown  and  Repton.  He 
speaks  thus  of  the  house  and  its  immediate  surround- 
ings: 

"For  this  reason  we  require  immediately  adjoin- 
ing the  buildings  of  opulence  and  luxury  that  every- 
thing should  assume  its  character;  and  not  only  be, 
but  appear  to  be  dressed  and  cultivated.  In  such 
places  neat  gravel  walks,  mown  turf,  and  flowering 
plants  and  shrubs  trained  and  distributed  by  art  are 
perfectly  in  character. 

"In  the  decoration  of  grounds  adjoining  a  house, 
much  should  depend  on  the  character  of  the  house 
itself ;  if  it  be  neat  and  regular,  neatness  and  regularity 
should  accompany  it ;  but  if  it  be  rugged  and  pictur- 
esque and  situated  amid  scenery  of  the  same  character, 
art  should  approach  it  with  more  caution :  for  though 


^Location  of  JSuilfctngs  109 

it  be  in  itself  an  avowed  work  of  art,  yet  the  influ- 
ence of  time,  with  the  accompaniments  of  trees  and 
creepers,  may  have  given  it  a  character  of  nature 
which  ought  to  be  as  little  disturbed  as  is  consistent 
with  comfort :  for  after  all  the  character  of  nature  is 
more  pleasing  than  anything  that  can  be  given  by  art. 
At  all  events,  the  character  of  dress  and  artificial 
neatness  ought  never  to  be  suffered  to  encroach 
upon  the  park  or  the  forest;  where  it  is  contrary  to 
propriety  as  it  is  to  beauty,  and  where  its  intro- 
duction by  our  modern  landscape  gardeners  affords 
one  of  the  most  memorable  instances  of  any  recorded 
in  the  history  of  fashions  of  the  extravagant  absurd- 
ity with  which  an  insensate  passion  for  novelty  may 
infect  a  whole  nation. " 

The  problem  of  how  to  plant  around  buildings  should 
be  solved  by  considering  the  house  or  stable  as  distinct 
and  yet  related,  each  one  to  be  treated  individually  and 
collectively,  especially  with  due  regard  to  the  general 
effect.  The  more  the  outbuildings  are  screened  from 
the  house  the  better,  but  there  may  be  a  like  graduated 
treatment  adopted  as  was  shown  in  the  case  of  the  pas- 
sage of  the  pleasure  ground  to  the  garden.  The  land- 
scape treatment  of  the  territory  of  the  outbuildings 
and  vegetable  gardens  needs  as  careful  study  as  any 
other  part  of  the  estate  in  order  to  make  a  harmonious 
general  effect. 

Prince  Puckler  writes  thus  in  Hints  on  Landscape 
Gardening: 


i  io  Slanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

"Buildings  should  never  stand  freely  exposed, 
lest  they  appear  as  spots,  unconnected  with  the 
nature  surrounding  them.  Concealment  enhances 
beauty,  and  here  something  should  always  be  left 
to  the  imagination.  The  eye  frequently  finds 
more  pleasure  in  a  single  chimney  in  the  distance, 
with  its  spiral  of  grey  smoke  curling  upward  against 
a  background  of  trees,  than  in  a  bare  palace  exposed 
to  view  on  all  sides,  which  nature  has  not  yet  lov- 
ingly approached  and  embraced.  It  is  highly  im- 
portant that  buildings  should  always  take  on  the 
character  of  the  landscape  in  which  they  figure.  A 
contrast  may  also  occasionally  fit  in  with  the  char- 
acter of  the  whole,  but  it  must  always  harmonize, 
as  I  have  pointed  out  in  the  example  in  the  last 
section :  the  sublimity  of  wild  nature  and  magnificent 
art.  A  pretty  villa  would  not  be  a  fitting  contrast, 
while  an  imposing  ruin  would  present  an  analogy  but 
no  contrast.  Many  of  our  German  architects  regard 
this  too  little.  Buildings  in  a  city  for  instance  must 
be  different  from  buildings  in  a  park.  In  the  one  case 
they  are  complete  in  themselves;  but  in  the  other  they 
are  only  a  component  part  of  the  whole  and  are  de- 
pendent on  it  for  picturesque  effect,  which  they  in  turn 
are  also  called  upon  to  produce;  hence  their  effect  in 
the  landscape  must  be  carefully  studied." 

In  other  words,  there  should  be  conformity  to  the 
character  of  the  landscape  in  the  design  of  the  buildings. 
The  landscape  architect  and  architect  need  to  study 


^Location  of  BuilMngs  m 

this  problem  in  the  utmost  sympathy.  It  is  not  only 
the  character  of  the  buildings  but  the  selection  of  the 
site,  as  before  pointed  out,  that  demands  their  co-oper- 
ation in  the  interests  of  their  client. 

Here  again  in  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  chap- 
ter iv.,  Prince  Piickler's  words  of  advice  are  pertinent 
as  illustrating  one  side  of  the  question : 

"In  general,  a  certain  irregularity  is  preferable 
in  buildings  in  a  park,  as  being  more  in  conformity 
with  nature  and  more  picturesque.  A  temple  de- 
voted to  a  cult,  a  theatre,  a  museum  devoted  to  art, 
doubtless  demand  symmetry  and  a  more  severe 
style,  but  the  mansion  or  villa  gain  by  greater 
irregularity,  in  comfort  as  well  as  picturesqueness. 
This  same  principle  appears  in  the  designs  of  the 
ancient  villas  and  country  houses,  as  we  may  gather 
from  the  ruins.  The  most  noteworthy  example  is 
perhaps  the  villa  of  Hadrian  near  Tivoli.  Traces 
of  this  principle  are  also  found  in  the  Italy  of  the 
Renaissance,  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries. 
Buildings  half  hidden  by  others,  large  and  small 
windows  on  the  same  face  of  the  building,  side  doors, 
projecting  and  receding  corners,  occasionally  a  high 
bare  wall  with  a  richly  ornamented  cornice,  roofs 
jutting  out  and  balconies  unsymmetrically  placed, 
in  short,  everywhere  a  great  but  by  no  means  unhar- 
monious  irregularity,  which  pleases  the  fancy  because 
the  reason  for  every  departure  from  regularity  is 
evident  or  may  be  surmised. " 


ii2  Xanbscape  Hrcbttectute 

In  the  same  chapter  there  are  some  remarks  on  the 
selection  of  a  site  that  are  worth  studying : 

"The  site  of  a  building  must  also  be  carefully  con- 
sidered. For  instance,  a  feudal  castle  in  the  midst  of 
a  level  field  of  grain,  as  we  find  at  Machern  near 
Leipzig,  appears  somewhat  comical.  And  so  is  the 
Egyptian  pyramid  which  is  to  be  found  there  in  the 
idyllic  surroundings  of  a  gay  birch  wood.  As  well 
imagine  a  straw  thatched  hut  surrounded  by  a 
French  parterre.  All  these  are  undesirable  contrasts 
that  destroy  the  harmony.  For  example,  pointed 
Gothic  buildings  would  make  an  unfavourable 
impression  if  set  among  spruces  and  Lombardy 
poplars,  while  amongst  oaks,  beeches,  and  pines  they 
would  be  quite  in  place.  On  the  other  hand,  spruces 
and  poplars  harmonize  with  the  horizontal  lines  of 
an  oriental  villa. 

"The  importance  of  harmonious  beauty  has  for 
its  corollary  that  the  purpose  of  a  building  must  be 
evident  in  its  style.  A  Gothic  house,  for  instance, 
which  is  nothing  else,  and  has  no  other  significance, 
being  built  just  for  the  sake  of  having  something 
Gothic  on  the  grounds,  produces  a  feeling  of  dis- 
satisfaction. It  is  a  hors  d'ceuvre,  uncomfortable  as 
a  dwelling,  and  as  a  decoration  unrelated  to  its  sur- 
roundings; but  if  we  see  on  a  distant  hill  the  spires 
of  a  chapel  rising  above  the  ancient  trees,  and  we  are 
told  that  this  is  the  burial  place  of  the  family,  or  a 
temple  actually  used  for  worship,  then  we  feel  satis- 


^Location  of  Buiifcings  113 

fied,  because  we  find  utility  combined  with  fitting 
beauty. 

"  The  same  effect  of  dissatisfaction  is  produced  by  an 
immense  palace  set  on  a  small  estate,  which  is  sur- 
rounded by  the  huts  of  poverty,  or  a  vast  park  with 
an  insignificant  cottage  in  the  centre. 

"Buildings  then  must  stand  in  appropriate  relation 
to  their  surroundings  and  always  have  a  positive 
purpose.  Hence  one  should  be  very  careful  in  the 
matter  of  temples,  which  in  ancient  times  had  a 
quite  different,  popular  religious  significance,  and 
also  with  meaningless  monuments,  if  they  are  to 
leave  a  deeply  moving  and  not  a  trivial  impression. 
The  trite,  incoherent  manner  in  which  in  these  days 
Mythology  is  taken  up,  makes  it  desirable  to  abandon 
it  entirely,  and  similarly  to  refrain  from  the  rule  of 
inscriptions  which  are  intended  in  certain  localities 
to  arouse  certain  sentiments. 

"  The  most  important  building  in  the  estate  or  park 
is  naturally  the  dwelling  house.  It  should  be  suited 
not  only  to  the  surroundings,  but  also  to  the  posi- 
tion, the  means,  and  even  to  the  calling  of  the  owner. 
The  roomy  castle  and  its  battlements  and  towers  are 
perhaps  unsuitable  to  the  merchant,  but  quite  becom- 
ing to  the  noble  aristocrat,  the  fame  of  whose  family 
has  been  handed  down  for  centuries,  and  whose 
forefathers  really  needed  them,  to  enclose  their  abode 
in  strongholds.  The  elder  Repton  (Amenity  Repton 
so  named)  went  so  far  as  to  hide  entirely  with  trees 
the  fine  view  of  the  city  of  Bristol,  in  order  that  the 


H4  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

owner  of  a  certain  villa,  a  merchant  who  had  retired 
from  business,  should  not  be  unpleasantly  reminded 
of  his  past  cares  and  worries  by  beholding  the  city 
where  he  had  spent  his  laborious  days.  This  is 
thoroughly  English,  as  well  as  the  endeavour  of  many 
egotists  there  to  hide  from  view  everything  that 
belongs  to  their  place,  no  matter  how  picturesque 
it  is.  Without  going  so  far,  I  will  say  here  that  the 
view  from  the  dwelling  house  should  harmonize  as 
much  as  possible  with  the  individual  taste  of 
the  owner,  since  the  eye  always  rests  on  it,  and 
hence  the  view  of  the  house  should  be  secondary  to 
the  view  from  the  house,  while  the  reverse  might 
hold  good  for  most  of  the  other  buildings  of  the 
park." 

Here  evidently  the  author  thinks  the  architect  and 
landscape  architect  should  work  together.  It  might  be 
well  to  add  his  remarks  on  the  retention  of  old  houses, 
which  even  in  America  have  pertinence. 

"Where  there  are  genuine  old  castles  (or  manor 
houses)  which  have  been  in  the  possession  of  the 
family  for  a  long  time  (not  new  buildings  in  imita- 
tion of  an  old  style)  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  their 
ancient  character  should  be  preserved  when  they  are 
enlarged  or  made  more  comfortable,  even  if  a  much 
finer  building  might  be  erected  on  the  spot.  The 
memory  of  a  bygone  time,  the  majesty  of  years, 
also  count  for  something,  and  it  is  a  real  misfortune 


^Location  of  Buil&inas  115 

that  our   pasteboard   age  has  destroyed  so  many 
of  these  relics. 

"The  English  have  not  yet  been  guilty  of  this  folly, 
and  nowhere  else  are  family  possessions  more  re- 
ligiously and  more  proudly  preserved.  We  also  find 
there  many  estates  of  mere  bourgeois  families  which 
for  more  than  six  centuries  have  passed  from  father 
to  son,  and  with  so  little  change  in  general  that, 
for  instance,  in  Malahide  in  Ireland,  the  family 
seat  of  the  Talbots,  even  the  woodwork  and  the 
furniture  of  entire  apartments  date  back  to  those 
early  years.  And  who  can  behold  the  splendours 
of  majestic  Warwick  Castle,  with  its  colossal  tower 
a  thousand  years  old,  or  the  royal  seat  of  the  Duke 
of  Northumberland,  without  feeling  penetrated  with 
romantic  awe,  and  without  delighting  in  the  match- 
less beauty  of  these  grand  piles  ?" 

An  extract  from  Prince  Puckler's  Tour  of  England 
gives  a  wonderful  idea  of  Warwick  Castle  from  the 
landscape  critic's  point  of  view: 

"It  was  an  enchanted  palace  decked  in  the  most 
charming  garb  of  poetry,  and  surrounded  by  all 
the  majesty  of  history,  the  sight  of  which  still  fills 
me  with  delighted  astonishment."  Again  he  writes: 
"Going  on,  you  lose  sight  of  the  castle  for  a  while, 
and  soon  find  yourself  before  a  high  embattled  wall, 
built  of  large  blocks  of  stone,  covered  by  Time  with 
moss  and  creeping  plants.  Lofty  iron  gates  slowly 


n6  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

unfold  to  admit  you  in  a  deep  hollow  way  blasted 
in  the  rock,  the  stone  walls  of  which  are  tapestried 
with  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation.  The  carriage 
rolls  with  a  dull  heavy  sound  along  the  smooth 
rock,  which  old  oaks  darkly  overshadow.  Suddenly 
at  a  turn  of  the  way,  the  castle  starts  from  the  wood 
into  broad  daylight,  resting  on  a  soft  grassy  slope; 
and  the  large  arch  of  the  entrance  dwindles  to  the 
size  of  an  insignificant  doorway  between  the  two 
enormous  towers,  at  the  foot  of  which  you  stand." 
"Let  your  fancy  conjure  up  a  space  about  twice 
the  size  of  the  Coliseum  at  Rome,  and  let  it  transport 
you  into  a  forest  of  romantic  luxuriance.  You  now 
overlook  the  large  court  surrounded  by  mossy  trees 
and  majestic  buildings,  which,  though  of  every  va- 
riety of  form,  combine  to  create  one  sublime  and 
connected  whole,  whose  lines,  now  shooting  upwards, 
now  falling  off  into  the  blue  air,  with  the  contin- 
ually changing  beauty  of  the  green  earth  beneath, 
produce,  not  symmetry  indeed,  but  that  higher  har- 
mony elsewhere  proper  to  nature's  own  works 
alone." 

And  describing  the  scene  more  fully  he  writes  in  the 
same  letter: 

"The  first  glance  at  your  feet  falls  on  a  broad 
simple  carpet  of  turf,  around  which  a  softly  winding 
gravel  path  leads  to  the  entrance  and  exit  of  the 
gigantic  edifice.  Looking  backwards,  your  eye 


^Location  ot  Buildings  117 

rests  on  the  two  black  towers  of  which  the  oldest, 
called  Guy's  Tower,  rears  its  head  aloft  in  solitary 
threatening  majesty  high  above  all  the  surrounding 
foliage  as  if  cast  in  one  mass  of  solid  iron;  the  other, 
built  by  Beauchamp,  is  half  hidden  by  a  pine  and 
a  chestnut,  the  noble  growth  of  centuries.  Broad- 
leaved  ivy  vines  climb  along  the  walls,  here  twining 
around  the  tower,  there  shooting  up  to  its  very 
summit.  On  your  left  lies  the  inhabited  part  of  the 
castle,  and  the  chapel,  ornamented  with  many  lofty 
windows  of  various  size  and  form,  while  the  opposite 
side  of  the  vast  quadrangle,  almost  entirely  without 
windows,  presents  only  a  mighty  mass  of  embattled 
stone,  broken  by  a  few  larches  of  colossal  height  and 
huge  arbutuses  which  have  grown  to  a  surprising 
size  in  the  shelter  they  have  so  long  enjoyed.  But 
the  sublimest  spectacle  yet  awaits  you,  when  you 
raise  your  eyes  straight  before  you.  This  fourth 
side,  which  has  sunk  into  a  low,  bushy  basin  forming 
the  court,  and  with  which  the  buildings  also  descend 
for  a  considerable  space,  rises  again  in  the  form  of  a 
steep  conical  hill,  along  the  sides  of  which  climb  the 
rugged  walls  of  the  castle.  This  hill  and  the  keep 
which  surrounds  it  are  thickly  overgrown  at  the  top 
with  underwood,  which  only  creeps  round  the  foot  of 
the  towers  and  walls.  Behind,  however,  rise  gigan- 
tic, venerable  trees,  towering  above  all  the  rock-like 
structure.  Their  bare  stems  seem  to  float  in  upper 
air;  while  at  the  very  summit  of  the  building  rises  a 
daring  bridge,  set,  as  it  were,  on  either  side  within 


us  SLanbscape  Brcbttecture 

trees;  and  as  the  clouds  drift  across  the  blue  sky,  the 
broadest  and  most  brilliant  masses  of  light  break 
magically  from  under  the  towering  arch  and  the  dark 
coronet  of  trees.  .  .  .  You  must  imagine  the  river  at  a 
great  depth  below  the  castle  plain,  and  not  visible 
from  the  point  I  have  been  describing.  The  first 
sight  of  it  you  catch  is  from  the  castle  windows, 
together  with  the  noble  park,  whose  lines  of  wood 
blend  on  every  side  with  the  horizon.  You  ascend 
from  the  court  to  the  dwelling  rooms  by  only  a  few 
steps,  first  through  a  passage,  and  thence  into  a  hall, 
on  each  side  of  which  extend  the  entertaining  rooms 
in  an  unbroken  line  of  three  hundred  and  forty  feet. 
Although  almost  'de  plein  pied'  with  the  court, 
these  rooms  are  more  than  fifty  feet  above  the  Avon, 
which  flows  on  the  other  side.  From  eight  to  four- 
teen feet  of  thickness  of  wall  forms,  in  each  window 
recess,  a  complete  closet,  with  the  most  beautiful 
varied  view  over  the  river,  wildly  foaming  below, 
and  farther  on  flowing  through  the  park  in  soft  wind- 
ings till  lost  in  the  dim  distance. " 

Note  how  the  location  of  this  castle  fits  in,  adapts 
itself  to  the  surrounding  scenery  and  dominates  and 
seems  to  own  it  all.  It  also  shows  how  important  the 
site  of  the  building  and  how  the  most  careful  study 
should  be  given  to  its  placing. 

It  may  be  truly  said  that  the  landscape  can  be  just 
as  well  fitted  to  the  building  by  a  proper  display  of 
landscape-gardening  ability  as  the  building  fitted  to  the 


^location  of  Builfcfnas  119 

landscape  by  the  architect.  Each  one  is  needed  to  help 
the  other;  for  in  actual  experience  it  is  often  found 
that  a  change  of  fifty  feet  will  greatly  improve  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  house  as  well  as  that  of  the  landscape 
as  seen  from  the  house. 

In  order  to  further  realize  the  significance  of  what 
has  been  said  in  this  chapter  on  the  important  subject 
of  the  location  of  buildings  one  instinctively  remembers 
Haddon  Hall.  Take  it  altogether,  Haddon  Hall  has 
come  to  be  recognized  by  many  of  the  best  judges  as 
the  finest,  although  by  no  means  the  largest  or  most 
expensive,  country  seat  in  England.  Most  people  in- 
stinctively prefer  it  to  Versailles  or  the  Italian  villas, 
but  it  may  be  said  that  is  a  matter  of  taste,  though  good 
taste  should  naturally  have  a  basis  on  acknowledged 
precedents  of  good  art.  In  this  respect  Haddon  has  a 
great  advantage  in  its  setting.  This  all  will  concede 
is  most  admirable.  It  rests  pleasantly  on  the  gentle 
slope  of  a  sidehill.  On  one  side  is  a  simple  and  broad 
terrace  backed  by  the  most  wonderful  beeches,  which, 
standing  in  just  the  position  they  occupy,  enhance  the 
beauty  and  dignity  of  the  house  tenfold.  Passing  down 
the  steps  of  the  terrace  one  sees  wide  simple  stretches 
of  soft  pastoral  English  landscape  which  is  certainly 
the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.  The  trees  and  grass 
spaces  seem  to  love  each  other  and  the  house  rests 
quietly  in  the  midst  of  them  like  a  rare  jewel. 


VI 

GRASS    SPACES 

"  \  T    7  HAT  the  gold  backgrounds  of  the  old  masters, 

y  \/       which  set  out  the  sweet,  lovable  faces  of 

madonnas  and  saints  in  so  ideal  a  manner, 

are  to  religious  pictures,  green  luxuriant  grass  spaces 

are  to  a  landscape.     They  are,  as  it  were,  the  canvas 

of  nature  painting,  the  playground  where  the  sun 

disports  an  element  of  brightness  which  sets  out  the 

whole  landscape."1 

By  grass  spaces,  something  more  is  meant  than  is 
usually  understood  by  the  term  lawn.  All  the  little 
corners  and  nooks  of  greensward  are  included,  the 
glades  edged  with  flowers  and  planted  with  trees  and 
shrubs,  the  grass  walks  in  the  gardens  and  along  the 
boundaries  of  plantations,  the  rides  through  woodland 
ways  where  saddle  horse  and  carriage  may  find  pleasant 
passage.  These  grass  spaces  are  the  choice  spots  of 
the  place.  It  is  there  that  the  clouds  play  with  their 
lights  and  shadows  and  the  showers  make  diamond 
and  silver  nettings.  No  building  that  can  be  avoided, 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Puckler. 

1 20 


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Grass  Spaces  121 

01  that  can  be  placed  elsewhere,  should  usurp  any  part 
of  this  stretch  of  green.  If  the  ancients  worshipped 
trees  and  groves,  surely,  in  the  landscape  scheme,  it 
should  be  considered  desecration,  a  treading  on  holy 
ground,  to  unnecessarily  destroy  greensward  that 
flourishes  in  a  favoured  and  fitting  spot. 

The  illustration  is  taken  from  Central  Park  and  its 
value  lies  in  its  open  character.  The  eye  revels  in 
the  rich  green  turf,  passes  with  pleasure  over  the  hill 
into  the  unknown  with  few  trees,  some  of  them  just 
peering  over  the  hill  and  thus  disclosing  a  considerable 
declivity  on  the  other  side.  To  make  these  grass  spaces 
illustrations  of  excellence  the  art  of  the  skilful  gardener 
needs  employment  for  grading,  and  the  principles  of 
this  art  will  be  considered  later.  But  for  the  benefit 
of  those  who  may  wish  some  general  instructions  con- 
cerning the  establishment  of  a  lawn  it  should  be  said 
that  high  culture  is  as  necessary  for  grass  space  as  for 
any  other  kind  of  vegetation  natural  to  this  climate. 
It  is  the  fine  pulverizing  of  the  first  two  or  three  inches 
of  the  soil  intended  for  a  lawn  that  counts  most.  Deep 
ploughing  or  trenching  and  drainage  are  indispensable, 
but  the  aim  should  be  to  treat  the  cultivation  of  the 
top  surface  of  the  lawn  very  much  as  an  onion  patch. 

Next  comes  the  establishment  of  the  proper  mechani- 
cal condition  and  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  possibly  the 
most  important  of  all  in  the  attainment  of  final  success. 
It  is  not  necessary  in  a  book  of  this  character  to  indicate 
in  detail  peculiarities  of  soil,  but  only  to  point  out  that 
grass  spaces  need  for  their  most  perfect  development 


122  OLanfcscape  Brcbitecture 

nitrogenous  fertilizers  from  natural  sources,  organic 
products  like  humus,  stable  or  cow  or  sheep  manure, 
as  distinguished  from  superphosphates  of  lime,  potash, 
and  bone  meal:  these  latter  fertilizers  are  best  suited 
to  orchards,  and  for  vegetables  that  grow  quickly  in 
one  season.  There  is  a  valuable  quality  peculiar  to 
stable  manure  of  the  right  kind  in  its  full  strength  that 
exactly  suits  the  lawn,  but  the  difficulty  is  to  get  such 
manure.  It  is  either  burned  (fire-fanged)  from  neglect 
to  turn  it  over  and  stir  it  up  at  the  proper  time,  or  it  is 
mixed  with  poisonous  disinfectants  or  sawdust  or  a 
superabundant  amount  of  straw.  So  much  for  manure 
secured  in  the  city.  In  the  country  no  one  wants  to 
sell  manure,  especially  the  farmer  who  has  use  for  all 
he  can  make.  Consequently  it  is  a  good  idea  to  make 
a  storage  place  for  all  kinds  of  organic  matter  as  well 
as  ordinary  manure  and  treat  it  with  water  and  stir 
it  and  turn  it  over  and  drain  it  into  a  vat  and  thus 
develop  and  preserve  its  strength  for  future  use.  If 
stable  manure  is  not  available  a  good  substitute  for  it 
is  decomposed  muck  dried  and  pulverized  and 
aerated. 

As  nature  is  apt  to  accomplish  such  work  better  and 
cfieaper  than  man,  it  is  a  good  idea  to  use  a  top  dressing 
of  muck  soil  taken  from  fields  that  have  been  used  for 
trucking  vegetables.  This  material  when  dried  should 
contain  about  80  per  cent,  humus  with  at  least  3^  per 
cent,  ammonia.  The  ash  or  remainder  should  be 
mainly  silica  and  lime  and  a  minimum  of  .35  per  cent. 


Grass  Spaces  123 

phosphoric  acid  and  .40  per  cent,  potash.  This,  of 
course,  may  vary  somewhat  and  still  make  a  good  top 
dressing. 

Sandy  ground  as  well  as  worn  out  ground  is  also 
greatly  benefited  by  the  application  of  a  clay  loam 
taken  from  good  grass  land  or  where  crops  have  already 
thriven.  The  clay  content  of  such  loam  should  vary 
from  25  to  50  per  cent.,  of  the  whole.  This  treatment 
may  be  said  to  be  indispensable,  in  a  way  more  so  than 
manuring,  to  get  the  best  results.  Moreover,  it  should 
always  be  kept  in  mind  that  the  problem  is  continually 
varying  according  to  the  nature  of  the  special  spot  of 
land  under  consideration. 

The  use  of  clay,  sand,  lime,  and  stable  manure  or 
humus  may  seem  to  involve  considerable  expense. 
But  their  value  for  the  establishment  of  a  good  lawn  is 
great.  If  the  foundations  of  a  lawn  are  not  well  es- 
tablished by  drainage  and  by  cultivation  and  by  enrich- 
ing with  a  top  dressing  of  clay  soil  or  sand  or  manure, 
it  will  be  comparatively  useless  to  sow  grass  seed. 
These  underlying  principles  of  treatment  of  the  soil 
need  application  first  to  give  value  to  the  skill  displayed 
afterwards  in  carrying  out  such  work. 

"The  ingredients  in  the  soil  may  be  divided  into 
two  classes:  1st,  the  purely  mineral  matters;  2d,  the 
organic  ingredients  constituting  the  humus. 

"There  is  a  vast  difference  in  the  fertility  of  a 
sandy  and  a  garden  soil.  Sandy  soil  may  contain 


124  SLanfcscape  Ercbitecture 

all  the  necessary  mineral  matters,  but  it  lacks  the 
something  needed  for  plant  growth  which  the  garden 
soil  contains.  This  something  is  called  humus,  an 
element  rather  difficult  to  define  and  still  more  diffi- 
cult to  describe  in  chemical  terms.  It  is  abundant 
in  fertile  soil,  but  scarce  or  wanting  in  barren  soil. 
Though  its  chemical  value  is  too  complex  to  be 
stated  or  even  known,  its  origin  is  easy  to  understand. 
"Humus  is  the  remains  of  life  of  previous  genera- 
tions. When  plants  die,  their  roots,  together  with 
their  leaves,  branches,  and  fruits,  inevitably  become 
incorporated  into  the  soil.  Animals,  too,  leave  upon 
the  ground  a  quantity  of  excrement  and  other  dis- 
charges; and  plants  likewise  probably  discharge 
excretions  into  the  soil.  When  animals  die  their 
bodies,  also,  may  become  mixed  with  the  earth. 
Thus  practically  all  kinds  of  organic  matter  from 
animals  and  plants  are  being  mixed  continually  with 
mineral  ingredients  in  the  surface  layers  of  the  soil. 
The  micro-organisms  in  the  soil  feed  upon  these 
dead  materials,  causing  an  extensive  series  of  de- 
compositions and  recombinations.  To  this  mass  of 
complex  organic  bodies  undergoing  decomposition 
in  the  soil  has  been  given  the  name  humus.  It  will 
be  evident  from  this  explanation  of  its  origin  that 
humus  cannot  have  a  definite  composition,  and  that 
it  will  hardly  be  alike  in  any  two  soils.  It  will  be 
composed  of  different  materials  to  start  with,  and 
there  will  be  a  variety  of  different  stages  of  decom- 
position. We  cannot  hope  to  find  any  definite  com- 


(Brass  Spaces  125 

position  of  humus,  but  we  can  study  the  kinds  of 
decompositions  and  recombinations  that  are  going 
on  in  it  and  that  result  in  making  it  a  suitable  food 
for  plants.  In  this  study  we  must  ever  keep  in  mind 
the  fact  that  dead  bodies  of  animals  and  plants  are 
not  in  condition  to  serve  another  generation  of 
plants  as  food.  We  cannot  feed  plants  upon  eggs, 
or  urine,  or  starches,  or  sugars.  Though  containing 
carbon  and  nitrogen  in  abundance,  these  elements 
are  locked  up  in  them  out  of  the  reach  of  the  green 
plants,  and  before  they  can  be  utilized  again  they 
must  be  freed  from  their  combinations  and  brought 
into  simpler  forms.  This  is  accomplished  by  the 
micro-organisms  (bacteria)  in  the  soil.  Our  study 
of  these  changes  may  best  be  centred  around  the  two 
chemical  elements,  carbon  and  nitrogen. 

"Farming  without  the  aid  of  bacteria  would  be 
an  impossibility,  for  the  soil  would  yield  no  crops.**1 

Concerning  the  value  of  humus  as  a  fertilizer  many 
authorities  may  be  quoted  besides  those  in  the  footnote. 2 

1  See   Agricultural    Bacteriology,   H.   W.   Conn,   Prof.   Biology    in 
Wesleyan  University,  Connecticut,  U.  S.,  2d  edition,  p.  39. 

2  Peat,  Its  Uses  as  Fertilizer  and  Fuel,  S.  W.  Johnson,  p.  90,  ed.  1859. 
Also  Soil,  etc.,  by  Dr.  E.  W.  Hilgard,  Professor  of  Agriculture  in  the 
University  of  California  and  Director  of  the  California  Agricultural 
Experiment  Station,  ed.  1907,  chapter  v.,  pp.,  72,  73,  74;  chapter  viii., 
chapter  ix.     Also  in  Peat  and  Muck,  etc.,  by  Saml.  W.  Johnson,  Pro- 
fessor of  Agricultural  Chemistry,  Yale  College,  U.  S.,  edition  1859,  pp. 
67,  80,  81,  82;  p.  107,  Ans.  14;  p.  109,  Ans.  14;  p.   113,  Ans.   14;    p- 
121,  Ans.   14;  p.  145,  Ans.  13;  Remarks,  147,  Ans.  13;  Remarks,  149. 
Ans.   13.     Also  Soils,  etc.,  S.W.  Fletcher,  Professor  of  Horticulture, 
Michigan  Agricultural  College,  chapter  iii.,  pp.  60,  6 1,  62;  chapter  xiii. 


126  QLanbscape  Brcbitecture 

It  makes  really  no  difference  whether  the  clay  loam 
and  humus  or  stable  manure  are  mixed  first  and  then 
applied  or  whether  the  two  soils  are  applied  separately ; 
only  for  grass  spaces  they  should  not  be  mixed  too  deeply 
with  the  native  soil,  simply  raked  or  harrowed  two  or 
three  inches  deep. 

Virgin  soil  of  high  quality  has  always  been  the  stand- 
ard of  fertility  for  almost  any  culture.  The  fact  that 
virgin  soil  of  high  quality  is  rare  and  difficult  to  secure 
in  most  places  will  explain  why  this  mixture  of  stable 
manure  or  humus  and  clay  loam,  the  nearest  approxi- 
mation to  virgin  soil  to  be  obtained,  is  recommended 
for  top  dressing  on  sandy  soils.  With  heavy  clay  soils 
naturally  the  clay  loam  should  be  left  out  and  possibly 
sand  substituted. 

Cultivation,  that  is  aeration,  is  necessary  for  soils 
in  order  not  only  to  remove  acidity  but  to  give  activity 
to  the  fertilizing  agents  present.  It  is  also  wise  to 
use  lime  to  correct  this  same  acidity  and  add  a  valuable 
element  to  the  soil.  An  application  of  lime  should  be 
made  about  once  in  six  or  seven  years.  The  applica- 
tion should  not  be  greater  than  a  ton  to  the  acre,  ordi- 


chapter  xii.,  pp.  323,  324,  327,  328,  ed.  1908.  Also,  Soils,  etc.,  Harry 
Snyder,  pp.  113-114,  3d  ed.,  1908.  Also  Correspondence  between  Pro- 
fessor E.  W.  Hilgard  and  Samuel  Parsons,  Landscape  Architect,  of  New 
York  City,  August,  1908.  Also  letter  in  1914  to  Professor  Hilgard  from 
S.  Parsons,  stating  that  the  fertile  soil  treated  with  humus  referred  to 
in  their  correspondence  of  August,  1908,  and  applied  at  that  time  to 
a  tract  of  land  in  Central  Park  on  the  west  side  of  the  Ramble  and 
east  side  of  the  West  Drive  near  79th  Street,  Transverse  Road,  and  the 
Swedish  school  house  has  accomplished  and  exhibits  excellent  results 
at  the  present  time. 


(Brass  Spaces  127 

narily  not  more  than  600  to  1000  pounds.  To  a  certain 
degree  the  acidity  present  should  control  the  amount 
used.  The  acidity  is  easy  to  test  by  means  of  litmus 
paper  and  there  is  no  great  difficulty  in  getting  humus 
or  dried  muck,  for  there  are  cultivated  patches  of  such 
land  in  the  neighbourhood  of  most  large  cities. 

Probably  the  most  economical  and  best  method  of 
establishing  the  conditions  most  favourable  for  a  lawn 
is  the  use  of  green  crops.  By  spreading  sufficient 
manure  to  make  a  green  crop  in  case  the  soil  is  not  rich 
enough  for  the  purpose,  a  growth  of  legumes,  like  red 
clover,  cow  peas,  vetches,  and  soy  beans,  can  be  readily 
secured.  When  this  crop  has  grown,  just  before  it 
reaches  maturity,  it  should  be  turned  under  with  a 
plough  or  spade .  In  this  way  the  legumes  will  be  enabled 
in  the  process  of  decay  to  add  to  the  soil  a  larger  amount 
of  organic  matter  than  would  the  non-legumes  like  rye, 
etc.,  as  the  legumes  gather  much  of  their  nitrogen  from 
the  air  through  the  agency  of  bacteria  contained  in 
their  roots.  This  process  will  naturally  cause  a  delay 
of  a  year  or  two  but  will  eventually  produce  a  superior 
lawn  at  the  minimum  expense. 

The  appearance  of  the  grass  spaces  depends  naturally 
on  the  character  of  the  seed  used.  The  general  practice 
of  the  trade  in  grass  seed  is  to  use  a  considerable  vari- 
ety of  kinds  on  the  theory  that  in  that  way  the  exigen- 
cies of  cold  and  drought  and  wet  weather  will  be  met 
more  successfully,  and  that  the  turf  will  grow  thicker 
and  the  roots  be  closer  set.  On  the  other  hand,  some 
prefer  only  three  or  four  vigorous  kinds — Kentucky  or 


128  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

Canadian' Blue  Grass  (Poa  pratensis),  red  top  (Agrostis 
vulgaris),  and  brown  Creeping  Bent  Grass  (Agrostis 
canina).  To  this  it  is  generally  thought  best  to  add 
white  clover,  which  thrives  on  poor  soil  and  in  dry 
weather  better  than  the  other  grasses  named.  It 
should  be  said,  however,  that  a  grass  sod  without  a 
mixture  of  white  clover  is  considered  by  many,  and 
with  good  reason,  likely  to  make  a  more  attractive 
lawn.  Some  go  so  far  as  to  recommend  the  use  of  one 
grass  only  and  that  the  strongest  growing  kind  of  a 
permanent  nature  like  the  Kentucky  or  Canadian 
Blue  Grass,  the  Canadian  to  be  preferred  for  sandy  soil 
and  comparatively  northern  regions.  It  may  be  said, 
truly,  that  no  matter  how  many  kinds  of  grass  seed 
are  planted,  the  Blue  Grass  is  likely  sooner  or  later  to 
almost  entirely  usurp  the  place  of  the  others. 

The  use  of  the  short-lived  grasses  like  timothy, 
rye  grass,  and  red  clover,  although  well  suited  to  go 
with  and  succeed  for  a  few  years  a  grain  crop,  is  not 
suitable  for  a  permanent  lawn. 

When  the  grass  seed  has  been  sown  and  properly 
rolled,  it  helps  the  young  recently  germinated  seed  to 
go  safely  through  the  winter  to  sow  some  grain  (rye 
in  autumn  and  oats  in  spring)  to  make  what  is  called 
a  cover  crop. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  much  the  treatment  of 
lawns  nearly  one  hundred  years  ago  resembles  that  in 
vogue  at  present  and  especially  how  much  even  in  those 
days  properly  prepared  muck,  or  humus,  and  clay  loam 
as  a  top  dressing  was  valued. 


Orass  Spaces  129 

"For  the  construction  of  lawns  I  can  recommend 
the  following  rules,  which  the  experience  of  several 
years  in  my  neighbourhood  has  confirmed : 

"  (i)  Whether  in  a  meadow  or  for  a  park  or  pleasure 
ground  it  is  of  no  avail  to  sow  only  one  kind  of  grass 
seed.  With  only  one  kind  of  grass,  perennial  or  not, 
it  is  not  possible  to  secure  a  close  grass  texture. 

"  (2)  For  the  first  two,  namely  meadows  and  park, 
I  consider  the  richest  mixture  to  be  the  best,  but 
with  this  proviso,  that  the  particular  kind  of  grass 
which  experience  has  found  to  be  the  most  suitable 
to  the  special  soil  should  dominate,  to  the  extent 
of  a  third  to  a  half  of  the  mixture.  In  wet  ground 
the  greater  part  timothy;  for  heavy  soil,  rye  grass; 
for  loam,  yellow  clover  and  French  rye  grass;  for 
light  soil,  honey  or  velvet  grass  (Holcus  lanatus); 
for  high  ground,  white  clover,  etc. 

11  (3)  If  the  plot  that  is  to  be  sown  is  dry,  it  is 
advisable  to  trench  it  twelve  to  eighteen  inches  first, 
whatever  the  soil  may  be,  but  the  top  soil  must  be 
spread  over  the  surface  again  if  the  soil  below  is 
inferior,  and  a  sandy  soil  must  of  course  be  improved 
by  muck  (humus),  compost,  or  field  soil. 

"If  the  expense  of  digging  trenches  is  too  costly, 
then  one  must  plough  to  at  least  the  usual  depth, 
and  in  most  cases  still  deeper  with  a  subsoil  plough. 
The  field  so  prepared  should  be  sown  (here  from  the 
middle  of  August  to  the  middle  of  September)  in 
rather  moist  weather  and  very  thickly,  and  the  seed 
at  once  well  rolled  in.  On  heavy  soil  it  is  best  to 


SLanbscape  Hrcbttecture 

wait  for  a  dry  day.  By  the  end  of  October  the  most 
beautiful  green  will  already  cover  the  new  meadows. 
The  next  year  they  should  be  mown  quite  early,  in 
order  to  obtain  an  even  growth,  but  the  seed  should 
be  allowed  to  ripen  and  fall  to  the  ground,  thus  secur- 
ing a  greater  density  of  turf  for  the  following  year. 
Nothing  more  is  now  necessary  but  to  roll  it  well 
every  year  after  each  mowing,  and  every  three  or 
four  years,  as  may  be  required,  to  fertilize  it  plenti- 
fully with  a  compost  of  field  soil  and  muck,  or  with 
the  manure  from  the  place  from  which  it  can  be 
easiest  secured.  In  this  manner  on  light  rye  soil, 
and  to  the  surprise  of  many  landowners,  I  have  pro- 
duced the  most  luxurious  meadow,  which,  instead 
of  giving  out  in  ten  years  as  was  prophesied,  steadily 
improved,  and  from  a  pecuniary  point  of  view  has 
proved  quite  a  good  investment,  as  in  four  years  the 
capital  spent  on  it  has  been  repaid.'*1 

One  important  feature  of  the  grass  spaces  of  the 
estate  or  park  that  should  be  carefully  looked  after  is 
the  degree  to  which- it  is  mown  or  cut.  Like  the  twigs 
or  ends  of  the  branches  of  trees  and  shrubs  the  charm 
of  the  blades  of  grass  lies  in  their  growing  tips.  They 
lend  grace  and  life  to  the  surface  of  grassy  spaces.  By 
skilful  use  of  the  scythe  or  the  proper  adjustment  of 
the  mowing-machine  this  object  can  be  to  a  certain 
degree  obtained,  and  it  is  a  good  idea  to  allow  the  grass 
in  secluded  nooks,  especially  on  estates  where  there  is 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Piickler,  chapter  vi. 


(Brass  Spaces  131 

no  public  to  intrude,  to  grow  at  will,  flower  and  seed, 
and  then  be  cut  down.  In  most  places  this  would  not 
be  advisable,  but  a  happy  medium  may  be  contrived, 
and  the  grass  saved  from  looking  shaven  and  shorn. 
The  people  who  use  lawns  often  fail  to  gain  a  sufficient 
realization  of  the  need  of  care  in  their  development. 
They  would  not  think  of  walking  over  flowers  or 
beautiful  dwarf  foliage  plants  used  in  bedding.  Just 
as  much  in  their  own  way  do  the  blades  of  grass  need  to 
be  cultivated  and  preserved.  The  limitations  of  the 
use  of  the  mowing-machine  should  be  strictly  main- 
tained during  abnormally  wet  or  dry  weather,  hot  or 
cold  weather,  or  during  certain  stages  of  growth. 
There  is  a  colour  and  shade  and  actual  grace  peculiar 
to  a  lawn  thus  maintained  that  is  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance in  landscape  gardening.  The  use  of  sheep  on 
lawns  has  its  advantages,  and  certainly  the  grass  will 
do  well  under  the  effects  of  such  pasturing,  and  gain  a 
more  natural  appearance,  and  give  a  more  pastoral 
effect. 


VII 

ROADS  AND  PATHS 

FOR  what  is  the  good  of  a  park  that  presents  the 
same  recurring  picture  from  a  few  points  of 
view,  a  park  where  I  am  never  led,  as  by  an 
invisible  hand,  to  the  most  beautiful  spots,  seeing 
and  comprehending  the  picture  in  its  entirety  and 
at  my  ease?  This  is  the  purpose  of  roads  and  paths, 
and  while  they  should  not  be  unnecessarily  multi- 
plied, too  many  are  better  than  too  few.  Roads  and 
paths  are  the  dumb  conductors  of  the  visitor  and 
should  serve  in  themselves  to  guide  him  easily  to- 
wards every  spot  which  could  afford  enjoyment. 
Roads  and  paths,  therefore,  should  not  be  too  con- 
spicuous but  should  be  carefully  laid  out  and  concealed 
by  plantations.  I  mean  too  conspicuous  in  the 
English  sense  where  a  property  of  a  thousand  acres 
has  only  one  or  two  main  roads  or  paths,  yet  the 
opposite  system  of  our  imitation  English  gardens, 
where  often  two  or  three  adjacent  paths  all  show  the 
same  points  of  view  and  lead  to  the  same  spot,  is 
also  very  objectionable. 

"It  follows  from  what  I  have  said  elsewhere  that 
132 


an&  patbs  133 

the  roads  and  paths  should  not  run  in  continual 
curves  like  a  serpent  wound  round  a  stick  but  should 
rather  make  such  bends  as  serve  a  definite  purpose 
easily  and  effectively,  following  as  far  as  possible 
the  natural  contours  of  the  ground.  Certain  aesthe- 
tic rules  dictate  these  bends  in  themselves  and  hence 
in  places  obstacles  must  be  set  up  where  they  do  not 
naturally  occur  in  order  to  make  the  graceful  line 
appear  natural.  For  instance,  two  curves  close 
together  in  the  same  road  or  path  seen  at  the  same 
time  do  not  look  well.  If  this  cannot  be  entirely 
avoided  then  a  sharp  turn  should  be  relieved  by  a 
larger,  more  rounded  turn  and  the  former  should 
seem  justified  by  trees  or  plantations  on  the  inner 
side,  or  by  elevations  where  the  road  or  path  is 
apparently  more  easily  led  around  than  over  them. 

"See  Plate  V.,  a,  b,  c,  and  d.  If  there  is  no  ob- 
stacle the  road  should  be  allowed  to  run  straight  or 
only  slightly  curved,  no  matter  what  the  distance. 
Wherever  an  obstacle  appears  it  is  better  to  make  a 
short  turn  close  to  it  than  a  long  gradual  turn  for  the 
sake  of  the  so-called  curve  of  beauty.  The  sharp 
turns  are  by  far  the  most  picturesque,  especially  if 
the  road  disappears  with  such  a  turn  in  the  depth  of 
a  forest.  Nor  should  a  road  running  parallel  with 
another  be  visible  from  it  unless  there  is  a  distinct 
division  of  hill  and  valley  between  or  a  dip  in  the 
ground,  for  without  this  natural  division  two  adja- 
cent paths  leading  in  the  same  direction  appear  super- 
fluous, especially  when  they  are  on  the  same  level, 


134  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitectute 

for  the  mind  must  recognize  the  fitness  of  the  details 
before  the  eye  will  be  satisfied  by  the  entire  picture. 
"In  a  landscape  of  wide  sweep,  the  form  given  to 
the  grass  plots  especially  by  the  enclosing  roads 
must  be  carefully  considered.  One  may  entirely 
spoil  an  extensive  territory  by  a  short  piece  of  road 
badly  arranged.  I  call  to  mind  one  example  which 
first  attracted  my  attention  to  this  point.  There  is 
a  hill  in  my  park  which  extends  out  conspicuously 
in  a  wide  stretch  of  meadow,  thereby  apparently 
dividing  it  into  two  equal  parts.  The  river  flows 
along  this  entire  stretch  of  country  and  a  road  fol- 
lows its  course.  See  ground  plan,  e.  Observe  par- 
ticularly the  line  of  the  ridge  indicated  by  the  shading 
in  the  plan,  being  the  most  conspicuous  object  in 
the  neighbourhood,  as  well  as  the  two  markedly 
divided  portions  of  the  meadows  which  are  over- 
looked by  a  certain  building  on  the  height.  Another 
road  leads  to  this  building  along  the  upper  side  and 
for  the  sake  of  convenience  I  required  a  footpath 
connecting  the  two  roads  which  had  to  be  at  the 
left  side  leading  to  the  castle.  I  first  laid  it  down  as 
in  Plate  V.,  e,  where  the  ascent  is  easiest,  this  being 
the  line  it  would  follow  in  accordance  with  ordinary 
rules,  yet  I  was  never  satisfied  with  it  and  although 
I  changed  the  line  ten  times,  the  path  persisted  in 
spoiling  the  harmony  of  the  view  until  it  finally 
occurred  to  me  that  since  the  hill  once  for  all  conspic- 
uously divided  the  prospect  in  two  almost  symmetri- 
cal portions,  the  path  interrupting  the  stretch  of 


A  Diagram  Showing  the  Planting  Scheme  for  Trees  and  Shrubs. 


A  Diagram  Showing  Different  Arrangement  of  Paths. 

From  Piickler's  At'.as,  1834. 


anfc  patbs  135 

meadow  would  have  to  follow  the  same  direction  so 
as  not  to  destroy  the  harmony,  or,  if  I  may  say  so, 
the  balance  of  the  picture;  for  there  is  a  certain  kind 
of  undefined,  hidden  symmetry  in  which  there  is  no 
contradiction  whatever,  but  which  must  be  evident 
in  every  expanded  arrangement  of  this  kind,  in 
order  to  produce  a  satisfactory  effect.  As  soon  as 
I  changed  the  line  of  the  path  in  agreement  with 
this  principle, — see  x, — the  matter  was  arranged  satis- 
factorily. It  may  take  a  practised  eye  to  understand 
this  point  on  the  plan,  but  the  advantages  gained 
by  the  change  may  be  perceived  by  any  one  on  the 
ground. 

"  Drives  should  be  laid  out  so  that  chief  points 
of  interest  and  the  most  noteworthy  objects  in  the 
entire  park  may  be  visited  one  after  another  without 
passing  the  same  object  twice,  at  least  not  in  the 
same  direction,  on  the  round  trip.  This  problem 
is  frequently  a  peculiar  one  to  solve;  I  may  say  I 
have  given  a  good  example  in  my  park  and  it  has 
cost  me  almost  as  much  labour  as  the  building  of 
labyrinths  may  have  cost  our  ancestors.  The  foot- 
paths also  must  run  into  one  another  with  this  end 
in  view,  affording  many  separate  paths,  apparently 
undesigned,  which  should  be  connected  together  so 
as  to  leave  a  wide  latitude  of  choice.  Where  one 
or  several  of  the  main  roads  or  paths  through  the 
park  are  intended  to  serve  as  an  approach  (as  it  is 
called  in  English)  to  the  castle  or  dwelling  house, 
it  should  be  concealed  for  a  time  to  make  the  road 


136  OLan&scape  Hrcbttecture 

appear  long  and  more  extended;  but  once  the  desti- 
nation has  come  into  view  it  is  not  well  to  allow  the 
road  to  turn  off  any  more  unless  there  be  a  mountain 
or  lake  or  other  palpable  obstacle  for  which  the  road 
must  deviate."  r 

In  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Puckler 
also  gives  instructions  relating  to  the  construction  of 
paths  and  roads  and  it  is  surprising  how  much  the 
principles  of  the  method  recommended  resemble  those 
in  vogue  at  the  present  day.  But  the  construction  of 
roads  is  an  engineering  problem  and  should  be  left  to 
the  engineer  just  as  the  architecture  should  be  under 
the  control  of  the  architect. 

A  primary  principle  of  road  and  path  designing  is  to 
approach  the  subject  with  an  instinctive  sense  that  all 
roads  and  paths  should  be  left  out  of  the  scheme  as 
much  as  the  exigencies  of  landscape  effect  and  conven- 
ience will  allow.  In  themselves  they  have  no  beauty, 
rather  otherwise,  hence  wherever  grass  walks,  or  rides, 
or  drives  will  suffice  they  are  preferable  on  account  of 
their  unobtrusiveness.  For  the  same  reason  their  width 
should  be  minimized  as  much  as  the  actual  limitations 
of  the  situation  will  permit.  It  is  hardly  possible  to 
give  advice  on  the  question  of  width,  or  as  to  the  em- 
ployment of  grass  for  walks  and  drives,  it  is  so  entirely 
a  question  of  wear  and  tear,  of  the  number  of  vehicles, 
horses,  and  human  beings  who  will  be  likely  to  use  them. 

The  question  of  the  character  of  the  gutters  is  an 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Puckler. 


ant>  E>atbs  137 

important  one,  because,  as  generally  constructed  of 
stone,  they  are  one  of  the  least  attractive  features  in 
the  lawn  or  park.  The  best  form  they  can  take  is  that 
of  grass  or  sod  gutters  which  can  be  made  almost  im- 
perceptible by  keeping  the  centre  of  the  drive  or  walk 
high  in  relation  to  the  surrounding  lawn.  In  order  to 
insure  success  with  these  grass  gutters,  the  drainage  of 
the  road  or  walk  needs  skilful  treatment.  If  good 
drainage  be  secured  and  the  centre  of  the  walk  or  drive 
kept  high  the  sod  gutter  can  be  constructed  so  shallow 
as  to  be  hardly  perceptible  in  the  grass. 

Another  important  suggestion  in  designing  a  road  or 
walk  is  to  avoid  leaving  little  triangles  or  islands  of 
grass  or  trees  or  shrubs,  or  all  three,  at  the  junctions  of 
their  several  courses.  It  seldom  makes  a  desirable 
effect,  and  is  usually  the  result  of  a  hasty  or  unintel- 
ligent solution  of  the  problem.  An  open  space  even 
for  a  turn  in  front  of  the  house  is  better  suited  to  the 
general  effect  than  if  the  road  is  carried  round  a  formal 
oval  of  grass.  Such  a  space  moreover  is  certainly 
better  suited  for  turning  all  kinds  of  vehicles.  The 
road  should  also  always  pari  passu  enter  the  estate  or 
park  at  right  angles.  The  scene  opens  out  in  better 
shape,  and  one  enters  the  place  with  equal  ease,  without 
a  sharp  turn,  from  whatever  direction  one  is  coming. 
The  straight  part  should  continue  at  least  fifty  feet 
into  the  property  before  it  curves  at  all. 

It  has  been  already  shown  that  all  reverse  curves  in 
a  road  or  path  should  be  avoided,  unless  obstacles 
exist  like  a  tree  or  large  stone  or  building  to  evidently 


138  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

require  its  deviation  from  its  natural  sweep,  but  a 
further  caution  should  be  given  to  be  careful  not  to 
make  the  artifice  of  placing  a  rock  to  excuse  a  curve  too 
evident.  The  recourse  to  such  obvious  devices  would 
tend  to  make  the  road  take  on  a  formality  and  same- 
ness which  would  very  likely  be  much  worse  than  the 
most  rigidly  formal  design  of  walks  with  straight  lines 
and  circles.  The  latter  would  start  out  with  a  distinct 
and  entirely  defensible  purpose  if  it  were  located  in 
the  right  portion  of  the  place.  A  badly  related,  in- 
congruous design  is  possibly  the  worst  kind  of  land- 
scape gardening  and  yet  it  prevails  largely  because 
the  person  who  really  controls  the  layout  of  the  place 
probably  fails  to  appreciate  the  difficulties  involved 
and  the  necessity  of  basing  the  work  on  well  conceived 
and  definite  principles. 

Because  the  road  or  path  is  not  in  itself  beautiful 
does  not  prevent  the  most  attractive  rural  incidents 
from  clustering  along  the  borders.  Mr.  Olmsted  ex- 
presses the  same  idea  when  he  writes  as  follows  in  the 
Mt.  Royal  Park  Report: 

"Taking  then,  as  an  illustration,  a  road  (because  it 
is  the  most  unavoidably  conspicuous  artificial  thing 
that  you  must  have),  you  will  have  been  compelled 
at  various  points  by  the  topography  to  so  lay  it 
out,  [that]  though  slightly  curving,  its  course  is  open  to 
view  and  excessively  prominent  far  ahead,  dissect- 
ing, distracting  the  landscape.  Planting  trees  close 
upon  the  road,  they  must  either  be  trimmed  too  high 


IRoafcs  ant)  patbs  139 

to  serve  as  a  screen  to  its  course  ahead,  or  their 
limbs  will  in  time  obstruct  passage  upon  the  road. 
Your  resort  then  must  be  bushes  of  species  chosen 
with  reference  to  the  heights  and  breadth  of  foliage 
they  will  ultimately  develop,  with  a  view  to  the  range 
of  vision  of  observers  in  carriages.  If  there  is  a  walk 
following  the  road  it  should,  in  such  cases,  be  so  far 
divided  from  it  as  to  give  room  for  the  required  bank 
of  low  foliage  between  it  and  the  wheelway." 

Messrs.  Olmsted  and  Vaux  made  a  joint  report  to  be 
found  in  the  Sixth  Annual  Brooklyn  Park  Reports  (page 
97),  and  they  thus  express  their  ideas  on  roads  and 
paths: 

"To  illustrate  the  practical  application  of  these 
views,  we  will  take  one  of  the  many  classes  of  ar- 
rangements for  the  accommodation  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  public  through  a  park,  the  drives  or 
carriageway,  and  consider  what  is  required  of  it. 
A  drive  must  be  so  prepared  that  those  using  it 
shall  be  called  upon  for  the  least  possible  judgment 
as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued,  the  least  possible 
anxiety  or  exercise  of  skill  in  regard  to  collisions  or 
interruptions  with  reference  to  objects  animate  and 
inanimate,  and  that  they  shall  as  far  as  possible 
be  free  from  the  disturbance  of  noise  and  jar.  To 
secure  those  negative  qualities,  the  course  of  the 
road  must  be  simple;  abrupt  turns  must  be  avoided; 
steep  grades  that  would  task  the  horses  or  suggest 


140  Xan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

that  idea  must  not  be  encountered.  The  possibili- 
ties of  the  road  becoming  miry  must  be  securely 
guarded  against;  its  surface  must  also  be  smooth 
and  be  composed  of  compact  material.  These  being 
the  first  and  essential  engineering  considerations,  it 
is  necessary,  secondly,  that  they  should  be  secured 
in  a  manner  which  shall  be  compatible  with  the  pre- 
sentation of  that  which  is  agreeable  to  the  eye  in 
the  surrounding  circumstances;  that  is  to  say,  the 
drive  must  either  run  through  beautiful  scenery 
already  existing,  or  to  be  formed,  and  for  this  pur- 
pose it  may  be  desirable  at  any  point  to  deviate  from 
the  line  which  an  engineer  would  be  bound  to  choose 
as  that  which  would  best  meet  the  first  class  of  re- 
quirements. It  must  also  be  remembered  that 
although  the  drive  can  hardly  be  expected  in  itself 
to  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  it  must  always 
be  more  or  less  in  view  as  part  of  it,  and  it  should, 
therefore,  be  artistically  designed  so  as  to  interfere 
as  little  as  possible  with  the  views  and  to  present 
at  all  points  agreeable  and  harmonious  lines  to  the 
eye.  Moreover,  as  it  is  desirable  that  at  some  point 
in  the  course  of  a  drive  through  every  park  there 
should  be  an  opportunity  for  those  in  carriages  to 
see  others  and  be  seen  by  others,  some  portion  of  the 
ground  which  by  development  of  natural  suggestions 
cannot  be  made  readily  attractive  to  the  eye  should  be 
chosen  for  the  purpose.  And  here  it  will  be  proper 
that  the  application  of  art  to  inanimate  nature  as  in 
architectural  objects  and  by  festive  decorations  of  the 


an&  Ipatbs  141 

outlines  of  the  drive  itself  should  distinctly  invite 
attention  and  aid  to  produce  a  general  suggestion 
of  sympathy  with  human  gaiety  and  playfulness." 

The  device  is  a  good  one  of  arranging  roads  and  paths 
so  that  they  may  make  decided  turns  when  they  reach 
some  tree,  or  group  of  shrubs  and  trees,  and  thus  find 
an  excuse  for  turning  and  securing  that  short  curve 
followed  by  a  long  curve  which  Prince  Puckler  so  much 
prefers  to  the  exactly  repeated  reverse,  "the  line  of 
beauty'*  as  it  has  been  termed.  This  advice  is  doubt- 
less excellent  when  the  object  exists  around  which  to 
turn,  but  some  go  farther  and  advise  the  placing  of 
trees  and  shrubs  at  points  where  turns  would  be  de- 
sirable ;  and  this  again  is  not  bad  advice,  provided  the 
trees  would  be  well  placed  if  the  road  did  not  run  there. 

The  ideal  line  for  a  road  to  approach  the  house  is  in 
one  single  sweep,  but  the  limitations  of  trees  and  shrubs, 
convenience,  and  the  opening  out  to  view  other  scenes 
which  present  themselves  often  prevent  this.  On  the 
same  principle  the  road  should  approach  the  house  on 
the  least  attractive  side,  that  of  the  outbuildings  and 
farming  territory,  leaving  the  secluded  and  most  beau- 
tiful outlook  in  front  of  the  living-rooms  of  the  house, 
the  dining-room,  and  library.  All  things  being  equal, 
the  drive  should  reach  the  house  on  the  side  where  the 
flower  garden  and  vegetable  garden  are  situated,  and 
give  an  undisturbed  pastoral  effect  to  the  lawn  on  the 
far  side. 

The  illustration     "The    Trosachs"    shows    why    a 


i42  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

road  winding  away  from  the  eye  through  park  or  wild 
woodland  gives  so  much  pleasure.  The  eye  loses  the 
drive  around  a  graceful  curve  and  as  one  moves  along 
bits  of  road  and  scenery  keep  opening  ahead  and  one 
wonders  what  is  coming  next.  Change  and  surprise 
form  important  elements  of  pleasure  in  landscape 
gardening. 

If  conditions,  however,  force  or  strongly  suggest  the 
use  of  a  straight .  road,  there  is  no  rule  of  good  taste 
that  should  prevent  its  employment.  The  trees  along 
its  borders  should  be  of  a  character  and  size  that  will 
give  it  dignity,  but  at  the  same  time  there  should  be 
a  diversity  of  the  grading  or  topography  of  the  lawn 
nearby,  and  above  all  a  pleasing  variety  of  shrubs 
between  a  number,  though  not  necessarily  all,  of  the 
trees.  To  leave  open  spaces  at  intervals,  provided  the 
views  there  are  attractive,  would  be  an  advantage. 

The  illustration  shown  of  the  straightaway  road  on 
the  east  of  Central  Park  indicates  how  such  an  arrange- 
ment can  be  made  agreeable  in  cramped  and  uninterest- 
ing conditions,  and  the  same  rule  applies  to  paths  or 
walks.  Curving  paths  are  the  most  agreeable  to  the 
eye,  but  if  the  dignity  or  exigencies  of  the  place  require 
it,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  straight  ones  should  not 
be  used.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  to  make  a  straight 
path  among  curved  ones  may  seriously  disturb  the 
harmony  of  the  entire  scene,  but  the  straight  path  in 
the  illustration  of  Lovers*  Lane  in  Central  Park  shows 
that  the  scene  can  be  so  diversified  by  planting  as  to  pre- 
vent the  formality  from  marring  the  beauty  of  the  scene. 


VIII 

WATER 

"1-^VEN  if  fresh  and  clear  water  (whether  ry/s 
stream  or  lake)  is  not  so  indispensable  to 
landscape  as  a  rich  vegetation,  it  greatly 
increases  its  charm.  Eye  and  ear  are  equally  de- 
lighted, for  who  does  not  hearken  with  delight  to  the 
sweet  murmur  of  the  brook,  the  distant  plashing  of 
the  mill  wheels,  the  prattling  of  the  pearly  spring — 
who  has  not  been  enchanted  in  quiet  hours  by 
the  perfect  calm  of  the  slumbering  lake  in  which  the 
giants  of  the  forest  are  dreamily  mirrored,  or  the 
aspect  of  foaming  waves,  chased  by  the  storm,  where 
the  sea-gulls  merrily  rock?  But  it  is  very  difficult 
for  the  artist  to  conquer  nature  here,  or  to  impose 
on  her  wiiat  she  herself  has  not  created  on  the  spot. 
"Therefore,  I  would  advise  rather  to  leave  undone 
altogether  a  faulty  imitation.  A  region  without 
water  can  yet  present  many  beauties,  but  a  stinking 
swamp  infects  everyone;  the  first  is  only  a  negative 
fault,  the  second  a  positive,  and  with  the  exception 
of  the  owner  himself  nobody  will  take  a  cesspool  of 
this  kind  for  a  lake,  or  a  stagnant  ditch  overgrown 

143 


144  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitectuie 

with  duckweed  for  a  stream.  But  if  one  can  by 
any  means  guide  a  running  stream  into  the  domain 
of  one's  own  property,  if  the  terrain  gives  any  pro- 
spect of  it,  one  should  do  one's  utmost,  and  forego 
neither  expense  nor  pains  to  acquire  such  a  great 
advantage,  for  nothing  offers  such  an  endless  variety 
to  the  beholder  as  the  element  of  water. 

"But  in  order  to  give  the  water,  artificially  ob- 
tained, whatever  form  it  may  take,  a  natural,  un- 
forced appearance,  much  trouble  is  necessary.  In  the 
whole  art  of  landscape  gardening,  perhaps  nothing 
is  more  difficult  to  accomplish. 

"  Several  of  the  rules  which  I  have  given  for  laying 
out  the  roads  and  for  the  outlines  of  the  plantations 
can  be  readily  applied  to  the  shape  of  the  water 
effects.  As  in  the  former  case  one  can,  according  to 
the  requirements  of  the  terrain  and  the  obstacles 
that  occur,  bring  in  sometimes  long  and  sometimes 
short,  abrupt  bends,  making,  for  preference,  rounded 
corners  rather  than  semicircles,  sometimes  even 
quite  sharp  turns  where  the  water  is  visibly  diverted. 
Both  banks  ofji  stream  or  brook  should  follow  fairly 
parallel  lines,  yet  with  various  nuances,  which  must 
be  decided  not  according  to  one's  fancy,  but  by  the 
laws  determined  by  its  course.  Two  rules  hold 
good  almost  universally : 

"i.  The  side  towards  which  the  stream  turns 
should  have  a  lower  shore  than  the  opposite,  because 
the  higher  one  diverts  it. 

"2.     Where  the  current  of  the  water  suddenly  be- 


•si 

•a 


TKttatet  145 

comes  swift  and  yet  needs  to  be  turned  aside  lest  it 
break  bounds  if  left  free,  a  sharp  bend  should  be 
constructed  rather  than  a  round  one  and  a  steeper 
shore  should  signify  the  conflict.  But  never  follow 
what  our  gardeners  call  'noble  lines.'  I  suppose 
the  terrain  to  be  the  same  in  both  cases.  The  old 
practice  would  give  the  line  of  the  stream  as  illus- 
trated in  a;  the  student  of  nature  will  try  to  make  it 
something  like  b. 

"Frequently,  larger  and  smaller  promontories,  as 
well  as  deep  bays,  tend  to  give  the  scene  a  natural 
appearance,  and  it  is  equally  effective  to  vary  the 
height  and  form  of  the  crown  or  upper  part  of  the 
shore.  One  must  be  careful  to  avoid  high  finish  in 
constructing  the  slope  of  the  shore  in  such  a  way  as 
to  betray  the  artificial  work. 

"An  exception  to  this  may  be  made  in  the  case  of 
the  pleasure  ground,  but  here  also  it  would  be  well 
to  strike  a  middle  course  between  nature  and  culti- 
vation. See  c  for  the  stiff  and  d  for  the  more  natural 
bare  shore,  e  for  the  advantages  of  variety  in  the 
shores  on  both  sides.  The  plantation  supplies  what 
is  still  lacking  and  completes  the  whole  by  the  free 
play  of  the  overhanging  branches.  It  would  hardly 
be  possible  to  give  an  entirely  natural  appearance 
to  an  artificial  shore  without  a  plantation. 

"If  one  would  like  a  larger,  more  lakelike  expanse 
of  water,  which  is  especially  desirable  in  the  view  from 
the  mansion,  one  should  so  treat  it,  partly  by  means 
of  islands,  partly  by  very  deep  bays,  the  limits  of 


146  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

which  are  mostly  concealed  in  shrubbery,  that  from 
no  one  point  the  whole  mass  of  water  can  be  over- 
looked, but  that  everywhere  behind  the  thick  shrub- 
bery the  water  appears  to  flow  onward;  otherwise, 
every  piece  of  water  will  appear  small,  even  though 
it  take  an  hour  to  walk  round  it.  Open,  grassy 
shores,  single  high  trees,  woods  and  thickets  should 
vary  the  effect  with  broad  spots  where  the  sunlight 
can  have  full  entry  in  order  not  to  deprive  the  water 
of  its  transparency  and  brillancy  by  concealment. 
A  lake  whose  shores  are  entirely  in  shadow  loses 
much  of  its  effectiveness,  as  the  water  reveals  all  its 
magic  only  under  the  full  rays  of  the  sun  where  the 
reflections  from  above  appear  to  come  from  the  bot- 
tom in  transparent  silvery  clearness.  I  have  fre- 
quently seen  this  very  necessary  rule  quite  ignored 
by  unskilful  gardeners.  The  projecting  tongues  of 
land  must  for  the  greater  part  run  into  pointed,  not 
rounded,  ends,  for  I  cannot  sufficiently  dwell  on  the 
fact  that  no  line  in  picturesque  landscape  is  more 
unpropitious  than  that  taken  from  the  circle,  espe- 
cially in  any  great  extent  of  space.  A  green  shore 
which  ends  quite  in  a  point  and  is  at  its  termination 
almost  in  the  same  line  as  the  water,  and  beyond  which 
the  water  appears  on  the  other  side,  makes  quite  a 
charming  variety,  especially  when  a  few  high-stemmed 
trees  stand  on  it,  and  where  one  looks  through  under 
the  foliage.  If  any  important  object  is  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  a  building,  mountain,  or  conspicuous 
tree,  plenty  of  room  should  be  given  for  its  reflection 


At 


.  * 


Mater  147 

in  the  water,  and  attention  drawn  to  the  picture 
shimmering  in  its  depths  by  a  path  or  bench  placed 
there  for  the  purpose. 

"The  form/ is  by  no  means  the  worst  which  I  have 
seen  carried  out,  nor  will  I  say  that  g  is  the  best  for 
execution;  but  the  latter  will  assuredly  make  a  more 
picturesque  effect,  and  from  no  point  of  view  will  the 
end  of  the  water  be  visible,  which  is  one  of  the  chief 
considerations."  * 

The  interesting  part  of  the  above  dissertation  is  that 
Prince  Puckler  carried  out  his  principles  and  directions, 
as  they  are  here  set  forth,  in  an  entirely  successful 
manner  on  his  own  estate  at  Muskau,  where  the  results 
can  be  seen  to-day  after  the  lapse  of  nearly  a  century. 

Not  long  before  the  time  of  Prince  Puckler  we  find 
Humphry  Repton  in  The  Art  of  Landscape  Gardening 
expressing  the  following  sound  views  on  the  subject  of 
the  use  of  water  in  the  landscape: 

"The  general  cause  of  a  natural  lake  or  expanse 
of  water  is  an  obstruction  to  the  current  of  the  stream 
by  some  ledge  or  stratum  of  rock  which  it  cannot 
penetrate,  but  as  soon  as  the  water  has  risen  to  the 
surface  of  the  rock,  it  tumbles  over  with  great  fury, 
wearing  itself  a  channel  among  the  craggy  fragments 
and  generally  forming  an  ample  basin  at  the  foot. 
Such  is  the  scenery  we  must  attempt  at  Thorsby. 

"When  under  the  guidance  of  Le  Notre  and  his 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Puckler. 


148  Xanbscape  Hrcbitecture 

disciples  the  taste  for  nature  in  landscape  gardening 
was  totally  banished  or  concealed  by  the  work  of 
art.  Now  in  defining  the  shape  of  land  or  water, 
we  take  nature  for  our  model,  and  the  highest  per- 
fection of  landscape  gardening  is  to  imitate  nature 
so  judiciously  that  the  influence  of  art  shall  never  be 
detected." 

However  satisfactory  we  may  find  the  words  of 
Prince  P tickler  and  Humphry  Repton  on  the  subject 
of  the  use  of  water  in  landscape  gardening,  the  excellent 
and  extended  study  of  Thomas  Whately  on  similar 
lines  should  not  be  overlooked.  It  conveys  much 
valuable  advice: 

"So  various  are  the  characters  which  water  can 
assume,  that  there  is  scarcely  an  idea  in  which  it 
may  not  concur,  or  an  impression  which  it  cannot 
enforce:  a  deep,  stagnated  pool,  dank  and  dark  with 
shades  which  it  dimly  reflects,  befits  the  seat  of 
melancholy ;  even  a  river,  if  it  be  sunk  between  two 
dismal  banks  and  dull  both  in  motion  and  colour,  is 
like  a  hollow  eye  which  deadens  the  countenance; 
and  over  a  sluggard,  silent  stream  creeping  heavily 
along  all  together,  hangs  a  gloom,  which  no  art  can 
dissipate  nor  even  the  sunshine  disperse.  A  gently 
murmuring  rill,  clear  and  shallow,  just  gurgling, 
just  dimpling,  imposes  silence,  suits  with  solitude, 
and  leads  to  meditation:  a  brisker  current  which 

T  .   _.  .  fr^*"^**'"*****"^'*^- 

wantons  in  little  eddies  over  a  bright  sandy  bottom, 


Kftater  149 

or  babbles  among  pebbles,  spreads  cheerfulness  all 
around;  a  greater  rapidity  and  more  agitation  to  a 
certain  degree  are  animating ;  but  in  excess,  instead  of 
wakening,  they  alarm  the  senses :  the  roar  and  the  rage 
of  a  torrent,  its  force,  its  violence,  its  impetuosity,  tend 
to  inspire  terror;  that  terror  which,  whether  as  cause 
or  effect,  is  so  nearly  allied  to  sublimity.  .  .  .  But 
it  is  not  necessary  that  the  whole  scene  be  bounded : 
if  form  be  impressed  on  a  considerable  part,  the  eye 
can,  without  disgust,  permit  a  large  reach  to  stretch 
beyond  its  ken;  it  can  even  be  pleased  to  observe  a 
tremulous  motion  in  the  horizon,  which  shows  that 
the  water  has  not  there  attained  its  termination. 
Still  short  of  this,  the  extent  may  be  kept  in  uncer- 
tainty ;  a  hill  or  a  wood  may  conceal  one  of  the  extrem- 
ities, and  the  country  beyond  it,  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  leave  room  for  the  supposed  continuation  of  so 
large  a  body  of  water.  Opportunities  to  choose 
this  shape  are  frequent,  and  it  is  the  most  perfect  of 
any:  the  scene  is  closed,  but  the  extent  of  the  lake 
is  undetermined :  a  complete  form  is  exhibited  to  the 
eye,  while  a  boundless  range  is  left  open  to  the  im- 
agination. But  mere  form  will  only  give  content, 
not  delight;  that  depends  upon  the  outline,  which  is 
capable  of  exquisite  beauty;  and  the  bays  and  the 
creeks  and  the  promontories,  which  are  ordinary 
parts  of  that  outline,  together  with  the  accidents  of 
islands,  of  inlets  and  of  outlets  to  rivers,  are  in  their 
shapes  and  their  combinations  an  inexhaustible  fund 
of  variety.  A  straight  line  of  considerable  length 


150  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

may  find  a  place  in  that  variety,  and  it  is  sometimes 
of  singular  use  to  prevent  the  semblance  of  a  river 
in  a  channel  formed  between  islands  and  the  shore. 
But  no  figure  perfectly  regular  ought  ever  to  be 
admitted ;  it  always  seems  artificial,  unless  the  size 
absolutely  forbids  the  supposition.  A  semicircular 
bay,  though  the  shape  be  beautiful,  is  not  natural; 
and  any  rectilinear  figure  is  absolutely  ugly;  but  if 
one  line  be  curved,  another  may  sometimes  be  al- 
most straight;  the  contrast  is  agreeable;  and  to 
multiply  the  occasions  of  showing  contrasts  may 
often  be  a  reason  for  giving  several  directions  to  a 
creek  and  more  than  two  sides  to  a  promontory. 

"Bays,  creeks,  and  promontories,  though  extremely 
beautiful,  should  not,  however,  be  very  numerous, 
for  a  shore  broken  into  little  points  and  hollows  has 
no  certainty  of  outline,  it  is  only  ragged  not  diversi- 
fied; and  the  distinctness  and  simplicity  of  the  great 
parts  are  hurt  by  the  multiplicity  of  subdivisions: 
but  islands,  though  the  channels  between  them  be 
narrow,  do  not  so  often  derogate  from  greatness; 
they  intimate  a  space  beyond  them  whose  boundaries 
do  not  appear;  and  remove  to  a  distance  the  shore 
which  is  seen  in  perspective  between  them.  Such 
partial  interruptions  of  the  sight  suggest  ideas  of 
extent  to  the  imagination. 

' '  The  inlets  and  outlets  of  rivers  have  similar  effects ; 
fancy  pursues  the  course  of  the  stream  far  beyond 
the  view — no  limits  are  fixed  to  its  excursions.  The 
greatest  composition  of  water  is  that  which  is  in 


Mater  151 

part  a  lake,  and  in  part  a  river,  which  has  all  the 
expanse  of  the  one,  and  all  the  continuation  of 
the  other,  each  being  strongly  characterized  to  the 
very  point  of  their  junction:  if  that  junction  breaks 
into  the  side  of  the  lake,  the  direction  of  the  river 
should  be  oblique  to  the  line  it  cuts — rectangular 
bisections  are  in  this,  as  in  all  instances,  formal;  but 
when  the  conflux  is  at  an  angle,  so  that  the  bank  of 
the  river  coincides  with  one  shore  of  the  lake,  they 
should  both  continue  for  some  way  in  the  same  direc- 
tion; a  deviation  from  that  line  immediately  at  the 
outlet  detaches  the  lake  from  the  river. 

"Though  the  windings  of  a  river  are  proverbially 
descriptive  of  its  course,  yet  without  being  per- 
petually wreathed,  it  may  be  natural;  nor  is  the 
character  expressed  only  by  its  turnings.  On  the 
contrary,  if  they  are  too  frequent  and  sudden  the  cur- 
rent is  reduced  into  a  number  of  separate  pools,  and 
the  idea  of  progress  is  obscured  by  the  difficulty  of 
tracing  it.  Length  is  the  strongest  symptom  of 
continuation ;  long  reaches  are  therefore  characteristic 
of  a  river,  and  they  conduce  much  to  its  beauty; 
each  is  a  considerable  piece  of  water  and  a  variety  of 
beautiful  forms  may  be  given  to  their  outlines,  but 
a  straight  one  can  very  seldom  be  admitted;  it  has 
the  appearance  of  a  cut  canal,  unless  great  breadth, 
a  bridge  across  it,  and  strong  contrasts  between  the 
objects  on  the  banks  disguise  the  formality.  A  very 
small  curvature  obliterates  every  idea  of  art  and 
stagnation;  and  a  greater  is  often  mischievous;  for 


152  Xanbscape  Hrcbitecture 

an  excess  of  deviation  from  a  straight  towards  a 
circular  line  shortens  the  view,  weakens  the  idea  of 
continuation,  and  though  not  chargeable  with  stiff- 
ness, yet  approaches  to  regularity;  whereas  the  line 
of  beauty  keeps  at  a  distance  from  every  figure  which 
a  rule  can  determine  or  a  compass  describe. 

"A  considerable  degree  of  roundness  is,  however, 
often  becoming,  where  the  stream  changes  its  direc- 
tion, and  if  the  turn  be  effected  by  a  sharp  point  of 
land  on  one  side,  there  is  the  more  occasion  for  cir- 
cuity  on  the  other.  The  river  should  also  be  widened 
under  that  other  bank;  for  it  is  the  nature  of  water 
thus  driven  out  of  its  course  to  dash  and  encroach 
upon  the  opposite  shore;  where  this  circumstance 
has  been  attended  to,  the  bend  appears  natural;  and 
the  view  ending  in  space  gives  scope  to  the  imagina- 
tion: the  turn  therefore  ought  generally  to  be  larger 
than  a  right  angle ;  if  it  be  less,  it  closes  immediately, 
and  checks  the  idea  of  progress. 

"Water  is  so  universally  and  so  deservedly  ad- 
mitted in  a  prospect,  that  the  most  obvious  thought 
in  the  management  of  it  is  to  lay  it  as  open  as 
possible,  and  purposely  to  conceal  it  would  generally 
seem  a  severe  self-denial:  yet  so  many  beauties  may 
attend  its  passage  through  a  wood,  that  larger  por- 
tions of  it  might  be  allowed  to  such  retired  scenes, 
that  are  commonly  spared  from  the  view,  and  the 
different  parts  in  different  styles  would  then  be  fine 
contrasts  to  each  other.  If  the  water  at  Wotton 
(the  seat  of  Mr.  Greville,  in  the  vale  of  Aylesbury 


A  View  of  the  River  as  Arranged  and  Improved  by  Prince  Puckler  von  Muskau, 

in  his  Park  at  Muskau,  Silesia,  Germany. 

Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 


\      I 


m 


l:UJI;U:i!MI|iiTi:l!'ll! 

WflfWWWWi* 

TTT 


The  Boundary  Fence  on  the  Park  of  Prince  Puckler  von  Muskau,  Silesia,  Germany. 

Redrawn  from  an  Old  Print. 


Water  153 

in  Buckinghamshire)  were  all  exposed,  a  walk  of  near 
two  miles  along  the  banks  would  be  of  a  tedious  length 
from  the  want  of  those  changes  of  the  scene,  which 
now  supply  through  the  whole  extent  a  succession 
of  perpetual  variety.  That  extent  is  so  large  as  to 
admit  of  a  division  into  four  principal  parts,  all  of 
them  great  in  style  and  in  dimensions;  and  differing 
from  each  other  both  in  character  and  situation. 
The  two  first  are  the  least;  the  one  is  a  reach  of  a 
river,  about  a  third  of  a  mile  in  length,  and  a  com- 
petent breadth,  flowing  through  a  lovely  mead,  open 
in  some  places  to  views  of  beautiful  hills  in  the  coun- 
try, and  adorned  in  others  with  clumps  of  trees,  so 
large  that  their  branches  stretch  quite  across,  and 
form  a  high  arch  over  the  water.  The  next  seems 
to  have  been  once  a  formal  basin  encompassed  with 
plantations;  and  the  appendages  on  either  side  still 
retain  some  traces  of  regularity ;  but  the  shape  of  the 
water  is  free  from  them;  the  size  is  about  fourteen 
acres ;  and  out  of  it  issue  two  broad  collateral  streams, 
winding  towards  a  large  river,  which  they  are  seen 
to  approach,  and  supposed  to  join.  A  real  junction 
is,  however,  impossible,  from  the  difference  of  the 
levels,  but  the  terminations  are  so  artfully  concealed 
that  the  deception  is  never  suspected;  and  when 
known  is  not  easily  explained.  The  river  is  the 
third  great  division  of  the  water;  a  lake  into  which 
it  falls  is  the  fourth.  These  two  do  actually  join; 
but  their  characters  are  directly  opposite;  the  scenes 
they  belong  to  are  totally  distinct ;  and  the  transition 


154  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

from  one  to  the  other  is  very  gradual,  for  an  island 
near  the  conflux,  dividing  the  breadth,  and  conceal- 
ing the  end  of  the  lake,  moderates  for  some  way  the 
space,  and  permitting  it  to  expand  but  by  degrees, 
raises  an  idea  of  greatness,  from  uncertainty  accom- 
panied with  increase.  The  reality  does  not  disap- 
point the  expectation;  and  the  island  which  is  the 
point  of  view  is  itself  equal  to  the  scene;  it  is  large 
and  high  above  the  lake;  the  ground  is  irregularly 
broken;  thickets  hang  on  the  sides;  and  towards  the 
front  is  placed  an  Ionic  portico  which  commands  a 
noble  extent  of  water,  not  less  than  a  mile  in  circum- 
ference, bounded  on  one  side  with  wood,  and  open  on 
the  other  to  two  sloping  lawns,  the  least  of  a  hund- 
red acres,  diversified  with  clumps,  and  bordered  by 
plantations;  yet  this  lake  when  full  in  view  and  with 
all  the  importance  which  space,  form,  and  situation 
can  give,  is  not  more  interesting  than  the  sequestered 
river,  which  has  been  mentioned  as  the  third  great 
division  of  the  water.  It  is  just  within  the  verge  of 
a  wood,  three  quarters  of  a  mile  long,  everywhere 
broad,  and  its  course  is  such  as  to  admit  of  infinite 
variety,  without  any  confusion.  The  banks  are 
clear  of  underwood;  but  a  few  thickets  still  remain; 
on  one  side  an  impenetrable  covert  soon  begins;  the 
interval  is  a  beautiful  grove  of  oaks,  scattered  over 
a  greensward  of  extraordinary  verdure.  Between 
these  trees  and  these  thickets  the  river  seems  to 
glide  gently  along,  constantly  winding,  without  one 
short  turn,  or  one  extended  reach,  in  the  whole 


Mater  155 

length  of  the  way.  The  even  temper  in  the  stream 
suits  the  scenes  through  which  it  passes ;  they  are  in 
general  of  a  very  sober  cast;  not  melancholy,  but 
grave ;  never  exposed  to  a  glare ;  never  darkened  with 
gloom;  nor  by  strong  contrasts  of  light  and  shade 
exhibiting  the  excess  of  either;  undisturbed  by  an 
excess  of  prospects  without,  or  a  multiplicity  of 
objects  within,  they  retain  at  all  times  a  mildness 
of  character  which  is  still  more  forcibly  felt  when 
the  shadows  grow  faint  as  they  lengthen ;  when  a  little 
rustling  of  birds  in  the  spray,  the  leaping  of  the  fish, 
and  the  fragrancy  of  the  woodbine  denote  the  ap- 
proach of  evening;  while  the  setting  sun  shoots  its 
last  gleams  on  a  Tuscan  portico,  which  is  close  to 
the  great  basin,  but  which  from  a  seat  near  this  river 
is  seen  at  a  distance,  through  all  the  obscurity  of  the 
wood,  glowing  on  the  banks,  and  reflected  on  the 
surface  of  the  water/' 
Here  are  good  words  about  flowers  on  the  waterside: 

"One  beautiful  way  in  which  flowers  can  be  used, 
especially  those  distinguished  for  the  brightness  and 
clearness  of  their  colouring,  or  for  their  tall  stalks, 
is  to  plant  them  in  moss  and  among  wild  vegetation 
along  the  edge  of  a  brook  or  some  other  piece  of 
water.  The  reflections  in  the  water  and  the  play 
of  their  movements  thus  doubled  clothed  with  a  new 
charm  this  scene  which  is  altogether  natural."1 

Throughout  all  these  quotations,  however,  no  one 

1  Hirschf eld's  Theorie  der  Garden  Kunst,  Leipzig,  1777. 


156  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

dwells  on  the  importance  of  the  margin,  the  lip  of  jthe 
shore  of  a  stream,  or  a  lake,  or  a  pool.  Landscape 
gardening  can  display  no  greater  skill  than  the  work 
that  can  be  done  in  varying  the  line  which  touches  the 
water  with  myriads  of  changes  even  in  small  ways  so 
that  the  eye  is  continually  diverted.  It  is  so  that 
nature  works,  and  we  will  see  it,  if  we  observe  with 
seeing  eyes.  Here  a  secret  cove  with  pond  lilies  and 
water  plants,  there  a  point  on  which  grows,  with  its 
roots  in  the  water,  a  fine  tree,  a  scarlet  maple  or  a  wil- 
low, or  perhaps  it  is  a  rock  all  moss-grown.  The  grass — 
not  cement  under  any  circumstances — on  the  edge  of  an 
open  lawn  coming  down  to  the  water  may  sink  its  feet 
directly  in  the  pool  or  stream,  where  its  green  will  be 
reflected  in  the  most  charming  manner.  There  is  no 
end  to  the  effects;  all  kinds  of  drooping  shrubs  may 
hang  the  ends  of  their  curving  branches  in  the  water, 
and  trees  and  shrubs  redouble  their  beauty  by  their  re- 
flected images.  jRushes  may  gather  along  the  banks,  and 
_irises  thrust  themselves  beyond  the  margin.  JBeaches 
of  sand  and  gravel  should  also  find  places  where  they 
would  naturally  assume  shape  and  remain  quiescent 
until  some  freshet  comes  along.  It  is  the  end,  the 
margin,  the  border,  the  tip  of  everything  that  counts 
above  all  things  in  the  landscape  picture.  The  margin 
of  the  shrub  groups,  the  shore  line  we  have  termed  it, 
gives  the  lawn  its  true  value  in  the  scene:  the  tips  of 
the  branches  of  the  shrubs  and  trees  mark  their  charac- 
ter in  most  cases  more  than  anything  else,  and  make 
much  of  their  charm  and  beauty.  It  is  for  this  reason, 


Mater  157 

if  for  no  other,  that  shearing  of  shrubs  seems  an  unkind 
proceeding. 

In  the  same  way,  we  should  seek  to  touch  and  beau- 
tify the  very  edge  and  margins  of  our  water  spaces  on 
nature's  lines,  with  all  the  devices  of  horticulture. 
Such  refinements  of  landscape  gardening  are  after  all 
the  supreme  result  to  be  sought,  for  it  is  these  seemingly 
minor  things,  these  small  touches,  that  make  for  per- 
fection. Again  the  warning  should  be  reiterated  that 
all  sense  of  effort,  all  fussiness,  should  be  avoided,  and 
simple  and  relatively  large  effects  alone  sought.  Above 
all,  any  attempt  to  exhibit  variety  of  plant  forms  as 
horticultural  curiosities  is  specially  objectionable. 

Water  used  in  the  form  of  fountains  should  find  jio 
place  on  an  estate  or  park  except  in  the  midst  of  some 
architectural  development,  among  trees  if  possible, 
in  a  portico,  a  court,  a  plaza  or  esplanade,  or  in  some 
stately  garden  in  connexion  with  buildings.  Water- 
falls, cascades,  rapids,  that  dash  and  resound  and  trickle 
and  murmur,  and  swing  and  sweep,  and  in  so  many 
ways  delight  the  eye  and  ear,  are  desirable  above  most 
landscape-gardening  effects;  but  the  attempt  to  produce 
such  effects  had  better  be  limited  to  places  where  water 
features  already  exist,  and  dash  and  trickle  of  their 
own  volition.  A  rock  can  be  added  here,  and  a  plant 
there,  or  a  shrub  and  tree,  and  greatly  increase  the 
attractions.  Water,  plants,  rocks,  and  soil  can  un- 
doubtedly be  gathered  together  in  distinctly  natural 
forms  that  will  not  insult  the  surrounding  scenery  by 
their  incongruities,  but  it  will  be  a  difficult  undertaking 


158  OLanfcscape  Brcbitecture 

and  should  not  be  attempted  except  after  due  consid- 
eration and  the  full  recognition  that  failure  is  quite 
likely,  and  that  the  work  may  have  to  be  done  over 
more  than  once.  Landscape  gardening  affords  more 
temptations  than  most  occupations  to  dream  dreams 
the  practical  realization  of  which  will  be  found  almost 
if  not  quite  impossible. 

In  order  to  form  some  idea  of  what  the  construction 
of  an  ideal  lake  means  the  accompanying  illustration 
is  given  of  Prof.  C.  S.  Sargent's  artificial  lake  on  his 
estate  of  Holm  Lea,  Brookline,  Boston,  Mass. 

"It  was  formed  by  excavating  a  piece  of  swamp 
and  damming  a  small  stream  which  flowed  through 
it.  In  the  distance  toward  the  right  the  land  lies 
low  by  the  water  and  gradually  rises  as  it  recedes. 
Opposite  us  it  forms  little  wooded  promontories 
with  grassy  stretches  between.  Where  we  stand  it 
is  higher,  and  beyond  the  limits  of  the  picture  to  the 
left  it  forms  a  high  steep  bank  rising  to  the  lawn  on 
the  farther  side  of  which  stands  the  house.  The 
base  of  these  elevated  banks  and  the  promontories 
opposite  are  planted  with  thick  masses  of  rhododen- 
drons, which  flourish  superbly  in  the  moist  peaty 
soil,  protected  as  they  are  from  drying  winds  by  the 
trees  and  high  ground.  Near  the  low  meadow  a 
long  stretch  of  shore  is  occupied  with  .thickets__of 
hardy  azaleas.  Beautiful  at  all  seasons,  the  pond 
is  most  beautiful  in  June  when  the  rhododendrons 
are  ablaze  with  crimson  and  purple  and  white  and 


Mater  159 

when  thejyellow  of  the  azalea  beds — discreetly  sepa- 
rated from  the  rhododendrons  by  a  great  clump  of 
low-growing  willows — finds  delicate  continuation  in 
the  buttercups  that  fringe  the  daisied  meadows. 
The  lifted  banks  then  afford  particularly  fortunate 
points  of  view :  for  as  we  look  down  upon  the  rhodo- 
dendrons, we  see  the  opposite  shore  and  the  water 
with  its  rich  reflected  colours  as  over  the  edge  of  a 
splendid  frame.  No  accent  of  artificiality  disturbs 
the  eye  despite  the  unwonted  profusion  of  bloom  and 
variety  of  colour.  All  the  plants  are  suited  to  the 
place  and  in  harmony  with  each  other;  and  all  the 
contours  of  the  shore  are  gently  modulated  and  softly 
connected  with  the  water  by  luxuriant  growths  of 
water  plants.  The  witness  of  the  eye  alone  would 
persuade  us  that  nature  unassisted  had  achieved  the 
whole  result.  But  beauty  of  so  suave  and  perfect 
a  sort  as  this  is  never  a  natural  product.  Nature's 
beauty  is  wilder  if  only  because  it  includes  traces  of 
mutation  and  decay  which  here  are  carefully  effaced. 
Nature  suggests  the  ideal  beauty,  and  the  artist 
realizes  it  by  faithfully  working  out  her  suggestions." x 

The  two  views  of  castle  and  moat  at  Muskau  are  full 
of  suggestions.  The  ancient  moat  has  been  enlarged 
in  one  case  to  a  small  lake  with  charming  plantations 
of  trees  and  shrubs  on  its  borders,  and  the  other,  with 
the  moat  disappearing  from  the  eye,  appeals  to  the 
imagination  and  takes  the  memory  back  to  ancient  days. 

1  Garden  and  Forest,  vol.  i.,  p.  8. 


160  OLan&scape  Hrcbttecture 

The  view  which  shows  a  pool  in  Central  Park  on  the 
west  side  near  77th  Street  might  well  be  the  moat  of  a 
feudal  castle  like  that  of  Muskau,  but  its  background 
which  makes  it  so  picturesque  is  simply  the  south-east 
tower  of  the  Natural  History  Museum.  There  is  a 
winding  path  that  goes  down  to  the  water  for  the  benefit 
of  horseback  riders  who  may  be  passing  on  the  bridle 
path  nearby. 

The  view  of  Durham  Cathedral  is  somewhat  familiar. 
The  reason  for  its  introduction  is  to  show  how  much 
water  adds  to  the  value  of  the  view  of  a  noble 
building. 

The  water-soaked  margins  of  our  ponds  and  lakes 
furnish  a  home  for  many  graceful,  fine  foliage  and 
flowering  plants.  Necessary  variations  of  height 
and  impressiveness  are  made  with  the  great  Gunnera 
and  the  lesser  heights  with  irises  or  daffodils  or  the 
little  water-lily  (NymphcBa  pygmea). 

The  question  which  we  need  to  consider  here  is  the 
way  they  should  be  used  on  the  shores  of  the  pools  and 
streams  of  the  landscape  picture.  We  are  again  called 
to  study  the  homes  where  such  plants  live  nearby,  on, 
or  in  the  water,  and  to  see  where  they  appear  to  best 
advantage.  An  eye  keenly  alive  to  such  opportunities 
for  study  will  see  many  things  along  the  banks  of  brooks 
and  lakes  that  are  suggestive  and  worth  imitating 
in  water  planting.  It  will  see  first  of  all,  especially 
in  confined  areas,  pools  and  arms  of  a  lake  or  stream, 
that  there  should  be  plenty  of  water  surface  left  un- 
covered by  planting.  The  level  space  is  the  eye  of  the 


The  Castle  and  the  Moat,  and  a  View  of  the  Park  on  the  Estate  of  Prince  Puckler 

von  Muskau,  Silesia,  Germany. 
From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears. 


A  Castle,  Lake,  and  Moat  on  the  Estate  of  Prince  Puckler  von  Muskau. 
From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears,  Providence,  R.  I. 


Mater  161 

leafage  of  the  park, — the  unbroken  grass  space;  in 
the  same  way  the  open  water  is  the  eye  of  the  water 
picture.  It  gives  breadth  and  composition  to  the 
scene,  allows  play  of  sunlight  and  reflection  of  leaf  and 
flower  in  the  water  and  brooding  of  shadows  on  its 
surface.  The  principles  of  design  are  the  same,  if  one 
will  only  pause  to  consider;  whether  it  be  a  woodland 
grass  patch  in  a  recess,  a  stream,  or  a  great  park  meadow 
with  shrubs  and  trees  receding  in  bays  or  boldly  thrust- 

^ «MI^ •"• «••••• •••••••••^•••"•"^••"••'•••^ "•"""•"•""""••"••••'•"•"•••'"^^••^' 

ing  themselves  forward  in  promontories  with  expanse 
and  freedom  of  level  space  around  them.  It  is  all  a 
matter  of  scale — the  small  and  the  large,  breadth  and 
height,  colour  and  scent,  they  all  aspire,  reach  upward, 
lift,  feel  their  strength  to  conquer  and  then  give  way 
and  yield,  until  finally  there  is  an  interval  of  peace,  of 
rest,  when  the  smooth  space  stretches  out  to  bear  on  its 
liquid  or  green  bosom  the  sun's  rays  and  the  drifting 
shadows,  to  give  to  the  open  water  a  little  quiet  to 
receive  the  sunset's  last  glowing  touches  and  to  settle 
down  finally  into  the  soft  odorous  gloom  of  evening. 
Then  there  are  the  battles  of  the  seasons,  heat  and  cold, 
freshet,  and  storm  wind.  Even  the  little  waterside 
flower  has  to  fight  for  its  life,  but  it,  too,  gains  its 
victory,  and  rest  and  happiness  after  all  the  dis- 
aster. The  beauty  and  the  modesty  of  the  river- 
side flower  is  not  to  be  gainsaid  in  the  days  of  its 
victory.  No  stately  plants  of  the  palace  garden  can 
surpass  it  in  loveliness.  Can  any  denizen  of  the  formal 
garden  surpass  in  charm  the  subject  of  these  beautiful 
lines : 

IX 


162  Hanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

The  woodland  willow  stands  a  lonely  bush 

Of  nebulous  gold, 
There  the  Spring  Goddess  comes  in  faint  attire 

Of  frightened  fire. 

The  golden  willows  lift 

Their  boughs  the  sun  to  sift, 
Their  sprays  they  droop  to  screen 

The  sky  with  veil  of  green, 
A  floating  cage  of  song 

Where  feathered  lovers  throng.1 

The  beauty  and  the  dainty  charm  of  plants,  trees, 
and  shrubs  and  flowers  on  the  waterside  transcends 
description.  What  a  fascination  there  is  in  the  water- 
lilies,  Nuphar,  Nelumbium,  and  Nymphaea — and  it  is 
not  easy  to  locate  them  rightly.  It  needs  study  and 
it  should  not  be  undertaken  lightly,  although  easy 
enough  if  you  know  how  to  do  it.  Without  much 
study  and  observation  success  in  managing  these  little 
water  plants  is  not  easy  to  attain.  The  following  lines 
of  Robert  Bridges  show  a  fine  knowledge  of  the  com- 
mon water-lily  of  lakes  and  streams,  a  knowledge  of  a 
kind  that  is  often  lacking  in  poets: 

But  in  the  purple  pool  there  nothing  grows, 
Not  the  white  water-lily  spoked  with  gold, 

Though  best  she  loves  the  hollows,  and  well  knows 
On  quiet  streams  her  broad  shields  to  unfold, 

Yet  should  her  roots  but  try  within  these  deeps  to  lie, 
Not  her  long-reaching  stalk  could  ever  hold  her  waxen 
head  so  high. J 

1  Robert  Bridges,  Poems,  p.  307,  1912. 


IX 

ISLANDS 

THE  design  and  construction  of  islands  in  rivers 
and  streams  and  lakes  or  ponds  requires  much 
study  of  the  spot  where  they  are  to  be  made, 
and   also  the  exercise  of  the  memory  to  accumulate 
examples  for  consideration,  which,  though  not  exactly 
the  same,  will  be  helpful. 

I  recall  for  instance  a  wonderful  afternoon,  sailing 
through  the  upper  reaches  of  Lake  George,  New  York 
State.  The  day  was  showery  and  as  the  mists  gathered 
and  dispersed  and  the  sun  now  came  out  and  now  dis- 
appeared, the  illusions  of  light  and  shade  were  magical. 
Islands  of  all  sizes  from  a  few  rocks  to  cedar-clothed 
hills  loomed  up  on  every  side  and  then  disappeared. 
Ever  changing,  it  was  like  some  scene  in  fairyland, 
unearthly,  unreal — the  mind  seemed  transported  to  a 
space  between  lake  and  sky  where  the  islands  had  a 
realm  of  their  own.  There  were  thousands  of  them 
and  the  study  of  how  many  of  them  were  growing 
from  a  few  rocks  into  larger  and  larger  masses  of 
trees,  rocks,  soil,  and  grass  was  most  instructive,  most 
illuminating. 

163 


164  Olanbscape  Hrcbitecture 

"Islands  scattered  in  a  large  lake  or  judiciously 
arranged  in  the  broad  flowing  river  are  of  great 
assistance  and  add  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  whole 
by  their  variety.  Here,  too,  the  example  of  nature 
must  be  very  fully  studied.  It  is  remarkable  how 
seldom  this  is  the  case  and  I  can  hardly  remember 
having  seen  anywhere  an  artificial  island  which  did 
not  betray  at  first  glance  its  forced,  unnatural  origin. 
Thus  I  recently  found,  even  in  the  small  celebrated 
royal  gardens  attached  to  Buckingham  House,  which 
I  have  highly  praised  elsewhere,  one  which  repre- 
sented more  the  picture  of  a  pudding  in  its  sauce, 
than  an  island  built  up  by  nature.  It  is  true  that 
nature  sometimes  indulges  in  peculiar  freaks,  but 
there  is  always  je  ne  sais  quoi,  which  cannot  be  at- 
tained by  mere  imitation,  therefore  it  becomes  us 
to  follow  her  rules,  not  her  exceptions. 

"  Generally,  as  I  have  said,  artificial  islands  can  be 
recognized  at  the  first  glance.  Their  shape  is  either 
oval  or  round,  sloping  down  equally  on  all  sides,  (see 
Plate  VII.,  e,)  and  they  are  planted  at  random  in 
separate  patches,  see  i.  Nature  forms  them  quite 
otherwise,  seldom  by  building  up,  more  frequently 
by  erosion.  For  how  is  an  island  originated?  First, 
either  a  piece  of  land  has  withstood  the  pressure  of 
the  flood  by  its  height  and  solidity,  see  a ;  or  secondly, 
it  has  been  forcibly  torn  asunder,  see  b ;  or  it  may  be  an 
eminence  has  been  quietly  surrounded  by  a  stream 
in  its  course;  or  finally  accumulated  soil,  having 
been  borne  along  by  the  stream,  remains  after  the 


Park  Treatment  of  Water  in  the  Neighbourhood  of  Durham  Cathedral,  England. 
From  a  Photograph  by  F.  Hovey  Allen. 


flslanos  165 

flood  has  receded,  as  an  island  standing  above  low 
water,  see  c. 

"Where  the  water  flowing  swiftly  into  a  basin 
forms  an  island  at  the  inlet,  it  will  take  about  the 
shape  of  d;  following  the  outer  banks,  the  swiftly 
flowing  stream  by  its  strong  pressure  on  both  sides 
will  somewhat  round  the  ends.  But  if  the  river 
widens  into  a  lake  by  gently  filling  a  deep  basin, 
rather  than  rushing  into  it,  then  e  may  be  assumed 
as  the  natural  shape,  for  here  the  river  doesn't  round 
off  both  sides,  but  forms  in  a  slow  current  on  the 
right,  a  long  spit  on  the  left  bank,  beyond  which 
the  quiet  water,  no  longer  in  a  powerful  stream,  pro- 
ceeds and  gently  flows  round  the  higher  ground. 
Very  seldom,  on  the  other  hand,  does  a  stream  flow 
into  such  a  basin  as  is  generally  made  out,  after  the 
model  of  a  bottle,  see  /. 

"Let  the  surface  and  shelving  of  an  island  on  the 
same  principle  be  constructed  in  accordance  with 
the  probable  effect  of  the  terrain  and  the  water  which 
washes  it.  The  equal  shelving  on  all  sides  and  the 
equality  of  height  throughout  is  the  commonest 
mistake.  I  fell  into  this  error  at  first ;  g  is  bad  and 
b  is  good. 

"But  even  the  best  forms  may  be  bettered  by 
plantations  skilfully  arranged  covering  the  spots 
that  appear  less  satisfactory  and  giving  more  variety 
to  the  surface  without  disturbing  the  harmony,  con- 
cerning which  the  right  feeling  certainly  must  again 
decide;  united  taste  and  experience,  recognizing  the 


i66  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

proper  course,  knows  what  cannot  be  altogether 
taught  by  correct  rule.  Islands  planted  down  to  the 
water's  edge  cannot  be  quite  failures,  be  their  shape 
what  it  may,  and  if  the  spirit  of  the  scene  is  to  be  fol- 
lowed it  may  be  the  only  alternative.  I  should  never 
recommend  leaving  the  shores  of  the  island  entirely 
implanted,  see  i  and  k,  even  if  it  is  a  very  good  form, 
since  the  bare  outline  of  nature,  if  I  may  so  express 
it,  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  to  imitate.  Finally 
one  must  confess  that  with  all  our  endeavours  to 
emulate  nature,  she  yet  retains  in  petto  something 
unattainable,  and  says  to  us  poor  human  beings, 
'Thus  far  and  no  farther/"1 

Prince  Puckler  in  his  Tour  in  England  writes: 

"It  is  necessary  to  study  the  forms  of  water  for 
the  details,  but  the  principal  thing  is  never  to  suffer 
an  expanse  of  water  to  be  .completely  overlooked  or 
seen  in  its  whole  extent.  It  should  break  on  the 
eye  gradually,  and  if  possible  lose  itself  at  several 
points  at  the  same  time  in  order  to  give  full  play  to 
the  fancy — the  true  art  in  all  landscape  gardening." 

The  actual  construction  of  an  island  should  be  done 
on  solid  foundations  of  earth  or  stone  and  good  drain- 
age secured.  A  rock  here  and  there  on  the  shores,  if 
rocks  already  exist  in  the  neighbourhood,  will  give  a 
natural  appearance  and  diversify  the  effect.  Little 
miniature  islands,  outside  of  the  main  island,  even  a 

1  Prince  Puckler,  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening. 


Uslanfcs  167 

few  bits  of  stone  with  a  little  earth  and  a  shrub  or  two, 
or  just  a  few  bare  rocks  jutting  out  on  the  surface  of 
the  water,  tailing  off  as  if  they  were  small  islands  in  the 
train  of  a  big  one,  are  found  in  thousands  of  places  in 
the  lakes  of  the  country  and  are  suggestive  of  this  kind 
of  landscape  gardening  that  should  be  undertaken. 

The  clothing  of  islands  with  trees  and  shrubs  should 
be  in  harmony  with  the  growth  of  the  shores  nearby. 
If  young  plants  are  selected  almost  any  of  the  woodland 
types  can  be  used ;  elms,  maples,  alders,  white  willows, 
birches  can  all  be  used,  but  the  kinds  similar  to  those 
on  the  neighbouring  shore  should  predominate.  Where 
the  mainland  is  free  from  woods,  it  is  a  good  idea  to 
throw  across  the  water  on  the  shore  a  mass  of  similar 
island  growths.  The  repeating  of  a  note  of  foliage 
in  this  manner  is  always  effective  and  should  be  used 
in  various  ways  throughout  the  neighbourhood  as  well  as 
on  the  islands.  All  formalism  in  the  planting  should 
be  avoided  and  the  trees  and  shrubs  grouped  in  many 
sizes,  but  for  the  sake  of  a  considerable  mass  of  colour, 
masses  of  one  sort  should  be  used  together.  If  a  small 
valley  or  cleft  in  the  crest  of  an  island  occurs,. it  should 
not  be  planted,  except  with  low  shrubs  or  undergrowth, 
so  as  to  emphasize  the  variety  of  surface  and  increase 
the  contrast  or  contradiction  of  parts  which  contributes 
so  much  to  the  beauty  and  picturesqueness  of  the 
landscape. 

It  takes  almost  a  special  gift  to  compass  these  natural 
effects,  but  the  above  simple  hints  or  suggestions  will 
place  one  on  the  right  road.  It  sometimes  almost 


1 68  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

makes  one  despair  of  trying  to  manage  to  create  these 
natural-looking  features.  There  are  bits  of  views  that 
have  a  beauty  that  cannot  be  imitated,  and  therefore 
it  is  often  better  to  let  a  fine  view  alone  when  we  can, 
because  we  can  rarely  improve  it.  Fortunate  is  any 
one  who  already  has  a  natural  and  beautiful  island. 
Best  set  out  a  water-lily  or  two  or  some  other  aquatic 
flower,  but  leave  the  trees  and  shrubs  of  the  island 
untouched  except  a  little  cutting  out  of  dead  wood  here 
and  there  or  lopping  off  a  rampant  branch. 

A  landscape  gardener  learns  above  most  artists  to 
exercise  restraint  and  humility.  Nature  is  so  much 
better  an  artist  than  he  can  hope  to  be.  Many  a  place 
should  never  be  planted  at  all  except  with  vines  and 
low  shrubs  and  a  tree  or  two  immediately  adjoining 
the  house;  nature  herself  having  done  the  work  so 
supremely  well. 

It  has  been  already  noted  that  to  make  an  island 
after  nature's  standard,  or  type,  there  may  well  be 
more  than  one  island,  one  in  several  and  yet  the  whole 
constituting  an  island  scheme,  a  unified  effect.  The 
most  natural  and  beautiful  island  is  one  that  is  growing, 
one  that  has  other  small  islands  around  it,  emerging 
into  sight,  consisting,  in  some  cases,  of  no  more  than  a 
rock  or  a  few  square  feet  of  earth  and  one  or  more 
small  shrubs,  an  island  very  much  like  the  larger  one 
was  at  an  earlier  stage  of  its  existence.  To  build  such 
companion  islands  successfully,  the  controlling  forces 
of  the  environment  must  be  carefully  studied  and  taken 
into  account,  the  character  of  the  current  and  the  pre- 


169 

vailing  winds,  from  whence  the  soil  drifts,  even  the 
source  of  the  stones  that  may  be  conveyed  by  the  ice. 
These  factors  will  all  work  effectively  in  the  natural 
development  of  an  island,  and  in  artificial  construc- 
tions we  should  continually  recognize  their  value. 

If  an  island  is  large  enough  to  require  a  bridge  to 
connect  it  with  the  mainland,  or  to  make  the  erection 
of  some  kind  of  building  advisable,  the  simplest  forms 
and  material  should  be  used,  and  generally  it  would 
be  better  to  use  stone  alone.  " Rustic  work"  as  re- 
presented by  the  intricate  arrangement  of  cedar,  locust, 
or  sassafras  branches  twisted  into  the  strange  conven- 
tional forms  has  become  popular  for  bridges  and 
summer  houses  on  islands  and  elsewhere,  but  good  taste 
should  really  bar  it.  It  is  neither  defensible  as  archi- 
tecture of  a  sort,  nor  suitable  as  material  for  use  in 
the  landscape. 

The  outline  of  the  shore  of  the  island  is  a  feature  that 
needs  the  most  careful  management  to  retain  the  in- 
finitely varied  contours  and  even  indentations  character- 
istic of  the  method  of  treating  such  places  followed  by 
nature.  Nothing  that  nature  does  is  accidental  or 
haphazard  and  therefore  it  is  always  important  to 
study  her  methods  and  see  how  and  why  she  arrives 
at  certain  results.  Something  of  the  play  of  these 
natural  forces  is  indicated  in  the  diagrams  and  expla- 
nations contained  in  the  quotations  from  Prince  Piickler 
contained  in  this  chapter. 


ROCKS 

THE  employment  of  rocks  in  landscape  gardening 
should  be  founded  on  study  of  the  way  similar 
fragments  have  naturally  disposed  themselves 
in  the  scenery  of  the  territory  where  they  are  to  be 
employed. 

To  complete  the  natural  beauty  and  proper  effect 
of  rocks  in  the  landscape,  rock  plants  are  required, 
plants  that  thrive  in  shallow  soil  and  in  the  crevices, 
pockets,  and  nooks  found  in  such  places. 

"They  (the  rocks)  may  also  occasionally  be  con- 
nected with  a  stretch  of  wall  built  of  blasted  field 
stone  as  if  for  some  purpose,  like  reconstructing  a 
bridge  or  supporting  a  steep  bank,  one  had  merely 
taken  advantage  of  the  rocks  which  had  naturally 
accumulated  and  supplemented  the  rest  with  a  wall 
for  the  same  purpose.  This  also  gives  the  opportu- 
nity to  gather  together  plants  which  demand  a  rocky 
soil,  and  which  are  often  very  ornamental,  especially 
near  water  where  such  rock  work  is  most  desirable 
for  a  bulwark,  dam,  strong  wall,  etc.,  and  in  a  large 
park  they  are  almost  indispensable.  A  slight  artistic 

170 


IROCfeB  171 

touch  which  can  be  recommended  is  to  set  the  stones 
in  a  slanting  direction  as  if  they  had  been  forced  up 
in  that  manner  and  to  make  one  or  more  of  the  edges 
stand  out  conspicuously,  which  gives  the  whole  a 
more  picturesque  and  bold  aspect."1 

There  are  few  things  more  beautiful  in  a  park  or 
garden  than  an  old  wall  treated  with  rock  plants  in  an 
intelligent  manner. 

"A  grand  old  wall  is  a  precious  thing  in  a  garden, 
and  many  are  the  ways  of  treating  it.  If  it  is  an 
ancient  wall  of  great  thickness,  built  at  a  time  when 
neither  was  work  shirked  nor  material  stinted,  even 
if  many  of  the  joints  are  empty,  the  old  stone  or 
brick  stands  firmly  bonded,  and,  already  two  or  three 
hundred  years  of  age,  seems  likely  to  endure  well  into 
the  future  centuries.  In  such  a  wall  wild  plants  will 
already  have  made  themselves  at  home,  and  we  may 
only  have  to  put  a  little  earth  and  a  small  plant  into 
some  cavity,  or  earth  and  seed  into  a  narrow  open 
joint,  to  be  sure  of  a  good  reward.  Often  grasses 
and  weeds  rooting  in  the  hollow  places  can  be  raked 
out  and  their  spaces  refilled  with  better  things. 
When  wild  things  grow  in  walls  they  always  dispose 
themselves  in  good  groups;  such  groups  as  without 
their  guidance  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  devise 
intentionally."2 

1  Prince  Puckler,  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening. 
3  Gertrude  Jekyl,  Wall  and  Water  Gardens. 


i?2  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

These  walls,  ancient  or  recently  made,  are  valuable 
in  many  places,  bordering  roads  and  lanes,  supporting 
steep  banks,  and  making  the  main  structures  of  bridges 
and  their  approaches ;  but  it  should  be  understood  that, 
in  order  to  have  a  rustic  character,  they  should  be  made 
of  stone  collected  in  the  fields  near  where  they  are  to 
be  used,  or  taken  from  a  quarry  where  the  rock  shows  a 
cleavage  or  lamination,  a  colour  and  grain  which  suit 
the  character  of  the  region  where  it  is  to  be  employed. 
Next  in  importance  to  the  character  of  the  stone  is  the 
size  of  the  individual  blocks  used.  These  should  be 
taken  as  large  as  possible  and  should  not  show  any 
signs  of  the  chisel,  only  a  blow  of  the  hammer  here  and 
there,  to  break  off  corners  so  that  a  rough  fitting  can 
be  made.  To  this  end,  no  chinking  or  thrusting  little 
pieces  of  stone  into  the  joints  should  be  allowed.  All 
these  crevices  or  openings  should  be  left  exposed  and 
then,  by  devising  lips  or  pockets  of  cement,  soil  can 
be  introduced  and  retained  for  growing  plants.  This 
will  in  a  year  or  two,  when  the  plants  have  grown,  give 
an  old  weather-worn  appearance  to  the  wall,  an  ancient 
moss-grown  look,  and  at  the  same  time  a  great  charm 
of  leaf  and  flower.  Any  concrete  that  may  be  neces- 
sary should  be  set  in  the  core  of  the  wall  where  it  is 
out  of  sight.  There  are  few  rock  plants  that  will  grow 
in  America,  or  even  elsewhere,  in  these  dry  crevices, 
and  such  plants  are  confined  largely  to  the  mossy-look- 
ing sedums  of  dwarf  habit,  preferably  the  stonecrop 
(Sedum  acre).  Besides  these  there  are  the  wild  cactus 
or  prickly  pear  (Opuntia  vulgaris),  the  houseleeks 


TCocfes  173 

(sempervivums),  which  do  well  in  these  difficult  places. 
Hardly  any  other  kinds  can  be  used  for  the  purpose. 

At  the  base  of  these  walls  ferns,  iris,  saxifrage,  and 
other  medium-sized  herbaceous  plants  that  bloom  at 
different  parts  of  the  season  may  be  grown,  but  the 
kinds  should  be  selected  so  that  only  the  base  of  the 
wall  for  a  foot  or  two  is  covered,  because  the  beauty 
of  the  grain  and  colouring  of  the  wall  is  quite  as  impor- 
tant as  the  plant  growth. 

Judgment  should  be  carefully  exercised  in  the  quan- 
tity of  climbing  plants  used, — roses,  clematis,  Virginia 
creeper,  euonymus,  Japanese  ivy,  etc., — because  the 
growth  of  these  vines  is  so  luxuriant  that  without 
proper  control  they  will  soon  cover  the  entire  wall  and 
hide  the  beauty  of  the  stone  itself  and  its  moss-covered 
crevices  and  surface.  The  right  way  is  to  plant  climb- 
ing vines  nearly  always  at  the  back  of  the  wall,  in  which 
case  they  will  grow  up  to  the  top  and  then  can  be  trained 
longitudinally  along  the  coping.  Unless  this  training  is 
carefully  followed  up,  the  vines  grow  out  in  all  directions 
and,  more  or  less,  droop  down  and  cover  too  much  of 
the  beautiful  surface  of  the  front  wall.  The  Euonymus 
radicans  is  a  small  evergreen  vine  of  great  beauty  and 
has  the  advantage  of  growing  in  a  moderate  way  in 
front  of  the  wall,  fitting  itself  into  some  of  the  large 
crevices  which  are  difficult  to  cover  with  the  sedums 
and  sempervivums,  but  even  this  vine  needs  consider- 
able attention  to  prevent  its  spreading  too  much  over 
the  picturesque  wall  surface. 

The  accompanying  illustration  shows  the  appearance 


174  2Lan&scape  Hrcbitectute 

of  a  wall  two  years  old.  This  wall  extends  in  front  of 
the  estate  of  W.  W.  Cook,  Esq.,  bordering  King  Street 
about  two  miles  from  Port  Chester,  N.  Y.  The  stone, 
a  heavy  granite,  is  of  striking  beauty,  having  a  warm 
pink  colour  shading  into  browns  and  yellows.  Much  of 
it  is  water  worn  and  all  of  it  was  taken  out  of  a  quarry 
on  the  shores  of  the  Sound  a  few  miles  from  New  Haven. 
The  blocks  vary  in  size  from  three  feet  to  ten  feet  long 
and  three  feet  wide  and  weigh  some  of  them  nearly 
a  ton  each.  The  coping  has  been  carefully  selected 
from  the  quarry  and  hammered  somewhat  to  give  it 
a  comparatively  uniform  surface,  but  leaving  the  nat- 
urally rounded  and  curving  contours. 

Such  a  wall  should  neither  look  like  a  ruin,  nor  on  the 
other  hand  like  a  neatly  laid  up  structure  made  of  small 
flat  stones,  but  every  foot  of  it  should  be  studied  with 
the  object  of  harmonizing  and  contrasting  the  colour 
and  form  of  the  stones,  grouping  them  and  combining 
their  colour  in  the  most  effective  way.  There  are 
beautiful  kinds  of  granite  which  are  well  suited  to  this 
purpose.  Mica  in  stones  should  be  avoided  and  only 
rock  selected  that  will  weather  attractively.  It  is  a 
good  idea  to  consider  that  the  function  of  rock  plants 
and  vines  is  simply  to  frame  beautiful  panels  of  stone 
in  the  wall.  In  that  case  it  will  be  difficult  to  go  far 
wrong.  To  pile  earth  on  top  of  the  wall  and  in  banks 
against  the  sides  and  almost  cover  everything  with 
flowering  plants  is  to  miss  the  chief  object  of  rock 
gardening. 

Mr.  William  Robinson  in  the  English  Flower  Garden 


If 


.8s  3 

2ft  « 
I  £1 

C     «    3 


IRocfes  175 

well  expresses  the  way  in  which  such  work  should  be 
done: 

"No  burrs,  clinkers,  vitrified  matter,  portions  of 
old  arches  and  pillars,  broken-nosed  statues,  etc., 
should  ever  be  seen  in  a  garden  of  alpine  flowers. 
Never  let  any  part  of  the  rock  garden  appear  as  if 
it  had  been  shot  out  of  a  cart.  The  rocks  should  all 
have  their  bases  buried  in  the  ground,  and  the  seams 
should  not  be  visible;  wherever  a  vertical  or  oblique 
seam  occurs,  it  should  be  crammed  with  earth,  and 
the  plants  put  in  with  the  earth  will  quickly  hide  the 
seam."1 

All  suggestion  of  artificiality  of  any  kind  should  be 
carefully  avoided  in  using  rocks  in  landscape  gardening. 
The  least  appearance  of  the  hand  of  man  is  more  in- 
jurious to  the  charm  of  the  place  than  it  is  anywhere 
else  in  the  landscape  scheme.  To  imitate,  or  better  to 
simulate  the  natural  surface  of  a  meadow  by  grading 
is  difficult  and  is  a  work  of  art,  the  management  and 
disposition  of  trees  and  shrubs  is  not  easy,  but  to  place 
rock  work  so  that  the  presence  of  the  mason  is  not 
dominating,  nor  the  careless  method  of  the  teamster 
in  dumping  his  load  of  stone,  is  the  most  difficult  of  all. 
This  latter  form  of  dumping  down  rock  is  by  some 
wrongly  deemed  natural  and  well  designed,  provided 
the  interstices  be  filled  with  plants. 

Thomas  Whately  writes  as  follows  on  the  same 
subject: 

1  English  Flower  Garden,  chapter  xi.,  p.  144. 


176 


SLanbscape  Hrcbitecture 


"But  too  strong  a  force  on  the  nature  of  the  place 
always  fails;  a  winding  path  which  appears  to  be 
worn,  not  cut,  has  more  effect  than  a  highroad,  all 
artificial  and  level,  which  is  too  weak  to  overbear, 
and  yet  contradicts  the  general  idea;  the  objects 
therefore  to  be  introduced  must  be  those  which  hold 
a  mean  betwixt  solitude  and  population;  and  the 
inclination  of  that  choice  towards  either  extreme 
should  be  directed  by  the  degree  of  wildness  which 
prevails ;  for  though  that  runs  sometimes  to  an  excess 
which  requires  correction,  at  other  times  it  wants 
encouragement,  and  at  all  times  it  ought  to  be  pre- 
served; it  is  the  predominant  character  of  rocks, 
which  mixes  with  every  other,  and  to  which  all  the 
appendages  must  be  accommodated;  and  they  may 
be  applied  so  as  greatly  to  increase  it:  a  licentious 
irregularity  of  wood  and  of  ground,  and  a  fantastic 
conduct  of  the  streams,  neither  of  which  would  be 
tolerated  in  the  midst  of  cultivation,  become  and 
improve  romantic  spots;  even  buildings,  partly  by 
their  style,  but  still  more  by  their  position,  in  strange, 
difficult,  or  dangerous  situations,  distinguish  and 
aggravate  the  native  tendencies  of  the  scene.  In 
the  choice  and  application  of  these  accompaniments 
consists  all  our  power  over  rocks ;  they  are  themselves 
too  vast  and  too  stubborn  to  submit  to  our  control; 
but  by  the  addition  or  removal  of  the  appendages 
which  we  can  command,  parts  may  be  shown  or 
concealed,  and  the  characters  with  their  impressions 
may  be  weakened  or  enforced:  to  adapt  the  accom- 


IRocfes  177 

paniments  accordingly  is  the  utmost  ambition  of  art 
when  rocks  are  the  subject. 

"  Their  most  distinguished  characters  are  dignity, 
terror,  and  fancy:  the  expression  of  all  is  constantly 
wild;  and  sometimes  a  rocky  scene  is  only  wild,  with- 
out pretension  to  any  particular  character. 

"  Art  may  interpose  to  show  these  large  parts  to  the 
eye,  and  magnify  them  to  the  imagination,  by  taking 
away  thickets  which  stretch  quite  across  the  rocks, 
so  as  to  disguise  their  dimensions,  or  by  filling  with 
wood  the  small  intervals  between  them,  and  thus  by 
concealing  the  want,  preserving  the  appearance  of 
continuation.  When  rocks  retire  from  the  eye  down  a 
gradual  declivity,  we  can,  by  raising  the  upper  ground, 
deepen  the  fall,  lengthen  the  perspective,  and  give 
both  height  and  extent  to  those  at  a  distance:  this 
effect  may  still  be  increased  by  covering  the  upper 
ground  with  a  thicket,  which  shall  cease,  or  be  lowered, 
as  it  descends. 

"A  thicket  on  other  occasions  makes  the  rocks  which 
rise  out  of  it  seem  larger  than  they  are;  if  they  stand 
on  the  bank  overspread  with  shrubs,  their  beginning 
is  at  least  uncertain,  and  the  presumption  is  that 
they  start  from  the  bottom. 

"  Rocks  are  seldom  remarkable  for  the  elegance  of 
their  forms ;  they  are  too  vast  and  too  rude  to  pretend 
to  delicacy;  but  their  shapes  are  often  agreeable; 
and  we  can  affect  those  shapes  to  a  certain  degree,  at 
least  we  can  cover  many  blemishes  in  them,  by  con- 
ducting the  growth  of  shrubbery  and  creeping  plants 

12 


178  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

about  them.  For  all  these  purposes  mere  underwood 
suffices,  but  for  greater  effects  larger  trees  are  requi- 
site; they  are  worthy  of  the  scene,  and  not  only 
improvements  but  accessions  to  its  grandeur ;  we  are 
used  to  rank  them  among  the  noblest  objects  of 
nature,  and  when  we  see  they  cannot  aspire  to  the 
midway  of  the  heights  around  them,  the  rocks  are 
raised  by  comparison.  A  single  tree  is  therefore 
preferable  to  a  clump;  the  size,  though  really  less, 
is  more  remarkable ;  and  clumps  are  besides  generally 
exceptionable  in  a  very  wild  spot  from  the  suspicion 
of  art  that  attends  them ;  but  a  wood  is  free  from  that 
suspicion,  and  its  own  character  of  greatness  com- 
mends it  to  every  scene  of  magnificence. " 

No  chisel  should  be  allowed  to  touch  the  stones  except 
to  break  off  chunks.  The  stone  or  rock  masses  should 
be  laid  lengthwise  in  the  wall,  not  with  the  narrow 
parts  up  and  down,  and  naturally  the  larger  pieces 
should  rest  on  the  ground.  Where  the  stones  rest  on 
the  ground,  the  point  of  junction  of  the  stone  and  soil 
should  be  at  least  two  or  three  inches  above  the  actual 
rock  base.  There  is  a  principle  involved  in  the  idea. 
Concealment  serves  to  suggest  that  the  rocks  have  not 
been  brought  to  the  spot,  but  have  grown  there,  and 
the  soil  gradually  gathered  about  them.  In  this  way 
it  looks,  and  should  look,  as  if  the  position  of  these  rocks 
was  the  work  of  nature.  Sometimes  it  is  well  to  have 
a  few  small  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  wall,  as  if  nature 
had  dropped  them  there  broad  side  down.  It  ought, 


IRocfes  179 

however,  to  be  a  stony  region  where  this  is  done. 
Wherever  no  visible  rocks  exist,  nothing  but  the  upright 
stone  wall  should  be  constructed,  and  above  all,  only 
stone  should  be  used  the  appearance  of  which  has  con- 
siderable resemblance  to  those  native  to  the  region. 
In  most  places  there  are  some  indications  of  native  stone 
cropping  out  of  the  surface  of  the  ground.  Should  the 
estate  or  park  be  located  in  a  distinctly  sandy  territory 
like  some  parts  of  New  Jersey,  there  would  certainly  be 
found  somewhere  within  a  few  miles  sandstone  that 
would  suit  the  purpose.  Stones  loaded  with  mica 
should  be  avoided  as  already  noted,  for  time  fails  to 
weather  them  satisfactorily;  for  the  same  reason  pud- 
ding-stone, conglomerate,  lava-like  material,  slaty 
stone,  and  anything  of  the  nature  of  fine-grained 
marble  are  unsatisfactory.  Rough-grained  stone  is 
required  generally,  whether  granite,  limestone,  sand- 
stone, or  even  a  nondescript  material  which  is  difficult 
to  classify.  The  same  instinct  for  simplicity  and 
rugged  strength  would  suggest  in  connexion  with  such 
stone  walls  that  gates  with  their  hinges  and  fastenings, 
lamps,  and  braces  of  all  kinds  be  made  of  the  roughest 
kind  of  hammered  wrought  iron,  strong  looking  and 
quaint  and  grotesque  in  design.  Such  rough-looking 
metal  may  be  cast  so  as  to  look  like  hammered  wrought 
iron,  in  which  case  its  use  may  be  admissible,  although 
strictly  speaking  it  is  hardly  in  good  taste.  It  is 
generally  wise  to  design  such  features  either  yourself 
or  with  the  aid  of  some  special  artist.  Hardly  ever 
can  you  get  a  design  from  books  or  samples  that  really 


i8o  3Lanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

fits  the  scheme  of  treatment  suitable  for  your  wall. 
The  proportions  of  the  wall  are  also  a  consideration  of 
great  importance.  Whether  the  wall  should  be  three 
feet  high  or  four  feet  or  a  mere  border  of  a  few  inches  or 
a  foot,  depends  naturally  on  existing  conditions,  but 
there  should  always  be  plenty  of  proportionate  thick- 
ness and  something  of  a  batter,  that  is  a  narrower  top 
than  base,  and  always  at  intervals  wide  stones  running 
through  the  wall  and  tying  the  mass  together.  The 
coping  should  be  equally  proportionate  and  lie  com- 
paratively level  or  sloping  regularly  down.  Stepping 
down  with  the  coping  at  intervals  should  be  avoided 
if  possible.  It  is  not  natural  looking. 

The  construction  of  the  cave  and  rough  stone  arch- 
way in  the  Ramble  in  Central  Park  forms  one  of  the  best 
examples  of  rock  work  to  be  found  anywhere.  Two 
enormous  masses  of  rock  near  each  other,  with  recesses 
forming  a  cave,  were  bridged  over  with  large  masses  of 
stones  laid  so  as  to  make  rough  parapet  walls  and  rough 
stone  side  pieces,  and  then  sloping  off  in  two  directions 
are  steep  banks  bordering  the  path  and  planted  with 
masses  of  rock  and  vines  and  shrubbery.  The  rocky 
incident  originally  existed,  but  its  essential  nature  was 
seized  and  improved  on  right  lines. 

Many  are  the  forms  which  rock  work  may  assume, 
besides  a  wall.  There  are  steps,  caves  in  hillsides, 
bridges,  and  even  houses,  and  very  often  there  are  rocks 
to  be  discovered  in  the  neighbourhood  whose  beauty 
can  be  enhanced  by  locating  other  and  smaller  stones  in 
their  neighbourhood  and  ornamenting  the  entire  mass 


The  Rustic  Bridge  Adjoining  the  Cave  in  the  Ramble, 
Central  Park,  New  York  City. 

From  a  Photograph  by  William  Hale  Kirk. 


181 

with  vines,  sedums,  etc.  Moreover,  wherever  rock 
crops  out  in  the  lawn,  alongside  a  path,  on  a  hillside  or 
on  the  level,  there  is  an  opportunity  to  add  similar  pieces 
of  rock  half  buried  with  the  interstices  between  them 
filled  with  earth  and  then  with  plants.  To  do  this  there 
are  chances  in  many  parts  of  the  country  and  the  possi- 
bilities of  thus  creating  natural  effects  of  the  greatest 
beauty  are  endless  and  scarcely  realized  at  the  present 
time.  The  very  selection  of  the  stones  with  their 
beautiful  grain  and  contour  invites  study  of  the  most 
delightful  sort.  Think  what  could  be  done  if  the  same 
attention  were  given  to  this  study  as  to  the  collecting 
of  curios  or  gems  or  to  the  use  of  stained  glass.  After 
all  there  are  few  things  finer  than  these  marvellous 
effects  of  nature  that  belong  to  the  countryside  and 
which  are  generally  overlooked  as  commonplace  and 
not  specially  interesting. 

The  bridge  over  the  pond  in  Central  Park  indicates 
the  rustic  effect  without  plants  in  the  interstices  of 
the  stones,  and  the  Lombardy  poplars  and  shrubbery 
emphasize  and  screen  the  entrance  of  the  footway. 

Here  is  an  example  of  a  stone  bridge  of  the  type  we 
have  been  considering,  which  illustrates  the  idea  of 
simplicity  and  natural  dignity  and  charm.  To  Garden 
and  Forest,  vol.  i.,  p.  52,  we  owe  the  illustration  and 
the  following  description : 

"This  very  ancient  bridge  spans  one  of  the  small 
streams  on  Dartmoor  in  the  south-west  of  England. 
Its  construction  is  sufficiently  explained  by  the 


1 82  3Lanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

picture — two  land  piers  and  one  stream  pier  are 
connected  by  long  spanning  stones  which  carry 
parapets  made  up  of  large  irregular  blocks.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  point  out  the  degree  to  which 
this  bridge  combines  picturesque  beauty  with  dura- 
bility, or  to  explain  the  fitness  of  such  bridges  for 
rural  situations  in  our  own  country.  In  the  immedi- 
ate vicinity  of  a  very  dignified  house  so  rude  and 
unarchitectural  a  bridge  would  perhaps  be  out  of 
place,  and  the  same  is  true  of  those  portions  of  an 
urban  park  where  formality  rules  or  where  archi- 
tectural works  of  importance  are  in  view.  But  in 
the  sequestered  naturally  treated  portions  of  parks 
a  bridge  of  this  sort  would  be  entirely  appropriate; 
and  carrying  a  road  or  footway  near  a  country  home 
of  modest  character  or  in  a  village  suburb  it  would 
be  a  most  charming  feature.  Naturally  we  have 
no  wish  to  suggest  that  this  bridge  be  copied  either 
in  its  special  form  or  in  the  size  and  disposition  of  its 
stones,  although  in  both  these  respects  it  would  be  an 
excellent  model.  It  is  illustrated  merely  to  show  how 
very  simply  a  stone  bridge  may  be  built  and  how 
incomparably  better  in  effect  it  is  than  the  ugly 
constructions  in  iron  or  the  rough  assemblage  of 
planks  with  which  in  this  country  we  are  so  familiar. 
Weather-beaten  boulders  as  old  as  those  in  this  bridge 
at  Leatherton,  and  as  appropriate  for  bridge  building, 
lie  by  every  New  England  stream,  and  it  would  need 
no  high  degree  of  skill  to  put  them  to  service.  But 
we  seem  to  have  thought  the  bare  straight  lines  of 


§  * 

PH      rt 


M 

o 

o 

00 

I 

o 


IRocfcs  183 

iron  more  beautiful  than  the  infinite  variety  of  form 
and  surface  and  colour  of  our  moss-grown  stones.  It 
is  full  time  we  changed  our  minds. " 

The  bridge  on  the  estate  of  Muskau  as  shown  in  the 
illustration  is  attractive  because  it  spans  a  brawling 
stream  and  because  it  is  simple  and  unassuming,  but  the 
stones  of  which  it  is  constructed  are  too  small  and  the 
entrance  to  the  footway  is  bare  of  foliage. 

Another  fault  to  be  found  with  this  admirable  method 
of  bridge  building,  is  that  there  is  little  or  no  moss,  or 
sedums  which  would  take  the  place  of  moss,  to  be  seen. 

There  are  other  illustrations  of  the  proper  use  of 
rocks  in  landscape  architecture  which  are  shown  in 
some  of  the  views  of  the  chapters  of  this  book.  They 
have  been  taken  from  sketches,  made  by  A.  F.  Bellows 
fifty  years  ago,  of  Central  Park,  New  York,  in  the 
early  state  of  its  development.  It  is  not  easy  to  find 
examples  of  rock  work  anywhere  equal  to  those  in 
Central  Park.  Unfortunately  the  study  of  these 
examples  does  not  seem  to  have  commended  itself  to 
many  people,  for  there  is  little  evidence  to  be  seen  on 
country  places  of  endeavour  to  excel  in  this  branch 
of  landscape  architecture. 


XI 

GRADING  AND  SHAPING  GROUNDS 

"  f~\N  meadows  as  a  rule,  here  and  there,  the 
I  I  little  ups  and  downs  must  be  levelled,  for 
practical  purposes  as  well  as  appearance: 
but  larger  undulations  of  the  terrain  must  by  no 
means  be  unnecessarily  disturbed.  But  if  never- 
theless it  is  desirable  for  other  reasons  to  re- 
move and  level  any  considerable  height,  and  any 
fine  trees  happen  to  be  standing  there  which  should 
not  be  removed,  then  I  advise  leaving  them 
standing  on  single  small  hillocks,  which  gives  the 
meadow  still  more  variety,  for  which  reason  I  have 
often  deliberately  planted  in  this  way  and  with 
good  results. 

"Although  in  general  a  certain  undulation  of  the 
terrain  is  advisable  at  times,  an  excellent  effect  is 
brought  about  by  making  the  bottoms  of  little 
valleys,  having  steep  surroundings,  quite  level.  We 
often  find  such  formations  in  nature  which  charm  us 
by  the  contrast."  x 

It  is  remarkable  to  find  these  wise  reflections  recorded 

1  Prince  Puckler,  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening. 

184 


A  Bridge  at  Leatherton,  Dartmoor,  England. 
From  a  Photograph  Taken  from  Garden  and  Forest.    (By  Permission.) 


A  Rough  Stone  Bridge  in  the  Park  on  the  Estate  of  Prince  Puckler  von  Muskau. 
From  a  Photograph  by  Thomas  W.  Sears,  Providence,  R.  I. 


ant)  Sbapina  <Brount>8  185 

nearly  a  century  ago.  The  feeling  for  nature  is  strongly 
evident,  and  the  whole  tendency  of  the  views  expressed 
is  to  confirm  the  fundamental  ideas  which  I  propose  to 
discuss  for  the  grading  and  shaping  the  earth  surface 
for  landscape  gardening. 

The  problem,  here  as  elsewhere,  is  to  humour  and 
conquer  nature  and  yet,  to  all  appearance,  still  keep 
her  character  intact.  Before  the  planting  of  trees  and 
shrubs  and  flowers,  before,  usually,  even  the  final 
disposition  of  the  paths  and  roads,  comes  this  modu- 
lation of  the  surface  of  the  earth,  for  it  really  amounts 
to  this,  for  not  only  existing  natural  conditions  should  be 
harmonized  and  overcome  without  losing  the  charac- 
teristic topography  of  the  place,  but  due  regard  should 
be  given  also  to  the  general  appearance  of  the  scenery 
immediately  outside  of  the  place,  and  even  miles  away, 
and  thus  the  keynote  of  the  scenery  of  the  region  be 
kept  continually  in  mind. 

To  do  this  work  in  the  proper  spirit,  and  in  a  really 
skilful  manner,  is  perhaps  the  most  difficult  undertak- 
ing that  the  landscape  gardener  will  have  to  master. 
There  are  niceties  in  the  details  of  shaping  the  ground, 
the  execution  of  which  will  not  be  easy  of  accomplish- 
ment. An  active  movement  of  the  surface  will  have 
to  be  maintained  that  is  not  expressed  by  either  of  the 
words  rolling  or  levelling,  and  yet  both  have  their 
value  in  describing  the  process.  The  higher  portions 
are  made,  or  become,  lower,  overcome  by  the  reaction 
of  the  next  swell.  Nothing  is  regular.  There  should 
be  conflict  and  contrast,  and  for  a  moment  or  longer, 


1 86  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

harmony  and  restfulness.  The  lawn  should  be  like 
the  waves  of  the  sea  or  a  lake  beating  on  the  shores  of 
varied  coast  lines  of  trees  and  shrubs,  with  the  flowers 
acting  like  the  foam  and  spray,  thrusting  themselves 
forward  on  much  the  same  lines  of  contrast,  conflict, 
and  yielding.  The  chief  art,  however,  lies  in  keeping 
the  essential  spirit  of  the  scenery  pervasive  and  recur- 
rent at  irregular  intervals  throughout. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of 
how  this  grading  is  to  be  done  under  all  circumstances, 
conditions  vary  so  cpntinually,  but  there  is  a  way  of 
doing  this,  depending  on  existing  relations  of  things  that 
can  only  be  attained  by  long  training  and  much  obser- 
vation; and  yet  this  is  the  very  thing  that  is  generally 
left  to  the  ordinary  day  labourer. 

We  have  cited  Prince  Piickler's  wise  suggestions  on 
grading,  but  going  back  quite  half  a  century  earlier  we 
read  in  the  pages  of  Thomas  Whately  a  really  profound 
and  illuminating  dissertation  on  the  subject.  Thomas 
Whately  is  a  well-known  and  highly  respected  authority 
on  landscape  gardening  both  in  his  own  day  (1770)  and 
at  the  present  time.  The  weight  of  his  advice  there- 
fore will  excuse  the  following  extended  quotation  from 
his  principal  work: 

"A  plain  is  not,  however,  interesting,  and  the 
least  deviation  from  the  uniformity  of  its  surface 
changes  its  nature;  as  long  as  the  flat  remains,  it 
depends  on  the  objects  around  for  all  its  variety  and 
all  its  beauty,  but  convex  and  concave  forms  are 


Grafting  ant)  Sbapfns  Grounds  187 

generally  pleasing;  and  the  number  of  degrees  and 
combinations  into  which  they  may  be  cast  is  infinite, 
those  forms  only  in  each  which  are  perfectly  regular 
must  be  avoided ;  a  semicircle  can  never  be  tolerable : 
small  portions  of  large  circles  blended  together  or 
lines  gently  curved  which  are  not  parts  of  any  circle, 
a  hollow  sinking  but  little  below  the  level;  a  swell 
very  much  flattened  at  the  top,  are  commonly  the 
most  agreeable  figures.  In  ground  that  lies  beauti- 
fully the  concave  will  generally  prevail;  within  the 
same  compass  it  shows  more  compass  than  a  swell; 
all  the  sides  of  the  latter  are  not  visible  at  the  same 
time,  except  in  a  few  particular  situations;  but  it  is 
only  in  a  few  particular  situations  that  any  part  of  a 
hollow  is  concealed,  earth  seems  to  have  been  accumu- 
lated to  raise  the  one,  and  taken  away  to  sink  the 
other.  The  concave,  therefore,  appears  the  lighter, 
and  for  the  most  part  it  is  the  more  elegant  shape; 
even  the  slope  of  a  swell  can  hardly  be  brought  down 
unless  broken  now  and  then  into  hollows  to  take  off 
from  the  heaviness  of  the  mass.  In  made  ground 
the  connexion  is,  perhaps,  the  principal  consideration. 
A  swell  that  wants  it  is  but  a  heap,  a  hollow  but  a 
hole;  and  both  appear  artificial.  The  one  seems 
placed  upon  a  surface  to  which  it  does  not  belong; 
the  other  dug  into  it.  Trees,  too,  without  being  con- 
nected with  those  within,  and  seeming  part  of  a 
clump  or  a  grove  there  will  frequently  obliterate  every 
trace  of  an  interruption.  By  such  or  other  means 
the  line  may  be,  and  should  be  hid  or  disguised;  not 


1 88  ntanoscape  Hrcbttecture 

for  the  purpose  of  deception  (when  all  is  done  we  are 
seldom  deceived),  but  to  preserve  the  continued 
surface  entire. 

"If  where  no  union  is  intended,  a  line  of  separation 
is  disagreeable,  it  must  be  disgusting  when  it  'breaks 
the  connexion  between  the  several  parts  of  the  same 
piece  of  ground.  That  connexion  depends  on  the 
junction  of  each  part  to  those  about,  and  on  the  relation 
of  every  part  to  the  whole.  To  complete  the  former, 
such  shapes  should  be  contiguous  as  most  readily 
unite,  and  the  actual  division  between  should  be 
anxiously  concealed.  If  a  swell  descends  upon  a 
level;  if  a  hollow  sinks  from  it,  the  level  is  an  absolute 
termination  and  a  little  run  marks  it  distinctly.  To 
cover  that  run,  a  short  sweep  at  the  foot  of  the  swell, 
a  small  rotundity  at  the  entrance  to  the  hollow,  must 
be  interposed.  In  every  instance  when  ground 
changes  its  direction,  there  is  a  point  where  the 
change  is  effected  and  that  point  should  never  appear. 
Some  other  shapes,  uniting  easily  with  both  extremes, 
must  be  thrown  in  to  conceal  it.  But  there  must  be 
no  uniformity  even  in  these  connexions;  if  the  same 
sweep  be  carried  all  around  the  bottom  of  a  swell,  the 
same  rotundity  all  around  the  top  of  a  hollow, 
though  the  junction  be  perfect,  yet  the  art  by  which 
it  is  made  is  apparent,  and  art  must  never  appear. 
The  manner  of  concealing  the  separation  should  itself 
be  disguised,  and  different  degrees  of  cavity  or  rotund- 
ity, different  shapes  and  dimensions  to  the  little 
parts,  thus  dignified  by  degrees;  and  those  parts 


<3rat>fn0  ant)  Sbapfng  (Brounfcs  189 

breaking  in  one  place  more,  in  another  less,  into 
the  principal  forms  that  are  to  be  united,  produce 
that  variety  with  which  all  nature  abounds,  and 
without  which  ground  cannot  be  natural. 

"  The  relation  of  all  the  parts  to  the  whole  when 
clearly  marked,  facilitates  their  junction  with  each 
other :  for  the  common  bond  of  union  is  then  perceived, 
before  there  has  been  time  to  examine  the  subordinate 
connexions;  and  if  these  should  be  deficient  in  some 
niceties,  the  defect  is  lost  in  the  general  impression. 
But  any  part  that  is  at  variance  with  the  rest,  is  not 
barely  a  blemish  in  itself:  it  spreads  disorder  as  far  as 
its  influence  extends;  and  the  confusion  is  in  pro- 
portion as  the  other  parts  are  more  or  less  adapted, 
to  point  out  any  particular  direction,  or  to  mark  any 
peculiar  character  in  the  ground. 

"If  in  ground  all  descending  one  way,  a  piece  is 
twisted  across  another,  the  general  fall  is  obstructed 
by  it,  but  if  all  the  parts  incline  in  the  same  direction, 
it  is  hardly  credible  how  small  a  declivity  will  seem  to 
be  considerable.  An  appearance  even  of  steepness 
may  be  given  to  a  very  gentle  descent,  by  raising 
hillocks  up  on  it  which  shall  lean  to  the  point,  whither 
all  the  rest  are  tending,  for  the  eye  measures  from 
the  top  of  the  highest  to  the  bottom  of  the  lowest 
ground;  and  when  the  relation  of  the  parts  is  well 
preserved,  such  an  effect  from  one  is  transfused  over 
the  whole. 

"But  they  should  not,  therefore,  all  lie  exactly  in 
the  same  direction;  some  may  seem  to  point  to  it 


190  Slanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

directly,  others  to  incline  very  much,  others  but  little, 
some  partially,  some  entirely. 

"If  the  direction  be  strongly  marked  on  a  few 
principal  parts,  great  liberties  may  be  taken  with  the 
others,  provided  none  of  them  are  turned  the  con- 
trary way.  The  general  idea  must,  however,  be 
preserved,  clear  even  of  a  doubt.  A  hillock,  which 
only  intercepts  the  sight,  if  it  does  not  contribute  to 
the  principal  effect  is,  at  the  best,  an  unnecessary 
excrescence,  and  even  an  interruption  in  the  general 
tendency,  though  it  hide  nothing,  is  a  blemish.  On  a 
descent,  any  hollow,  any  fall,  which  has  not  an  outlet 
to  lower  ground,  is  a  hole:  the  eye  skips  over  it, 
instead  of  being  continued  along  it;  it  is  a  gap  in  the 
composition. 

"There  may  indeed  be  occasions  when  we  should 
rather  wish  to  promote  than  to  check  the  general 
tendency.  Ground  may  proceed  too  hastily  towards 
its  point;  and  we  have  equal  power  to  retard  or 
accelerate  the  fall.  We  can  slacken  the  precipitancy 
of  a  steep  by  breaking  it  into  parts,  some  which  shall 
incline  less,  than  the  whole  before  inclined,  to  the 
principal  direction,  and  by  turning  them  quite  away, 
we  may  even  change  the  course  of  the  descent. 
These  powers  are  of  use  in  the  larger  scenes,  where 
the  several  great  parts  lie  in  several  directions;  and 
if  they  are  thereby  too  strongly  contrasted,  or  led 
to  points  too  widely  asunder,  every  art  should  be 
exerted  to  bring  them  nearer  together,  to  assimilate 
and  connect  them.  As  scenes  increase  in  extent, 


an&  Sbaping  (Brounte  191 

they  become  more  impatient  of  control :  they  are  not 
only  less  manageable,  but  ought  to  be  less  restrained; 
they  require  more  variety  and  contrast.  But  still 
the  same  principles  are  applicable  to  the  least,  and 
to  the  greatest,  tho'  not  with  equal  severity:  neither 
ought  to  be  rent  to  pieces;  and  though  a  small  neglect, 
which  would  distract  the  one,  may  not  disturb  the 
other,  yet  a  total  disregard  of  all  the  principles  of 
union  is  alike  productive  of  confusion  in  both. 

"The  style  also  of  every  part  must  be  accommo- 
dated to  the  character  of  the  whole,  for  every  piece 
of  ground  is  distinguished  by  certain  properties:  it 
is  either  tame  or  bold,  gentle  or  rude;  continued  or 
broken;  and  if  any  varieties  inconsistent  with  those 
properties  be  obtruded,  it  has  no  other  effect  than  to 
weaken  one  idea  without  raising  another.  The  in- 
sipidity of  a  flat  is  not  taken  away  by  a  few  scat- 
tered hillocks;  a  continuation  of  uneven  ground  can 
alone  give  the  idea  of  inequality.  A  large,  deep, 
abrupt  break,  along  easy  swells  and  falls,  seems  at 
the  best  but  a  piece  left  unfinished,  which  ought  to 
have  been  softened,  it  is  not  more  natural  because 
it  is  more  rude;  nature  forms  both  one  and  the  other 
but  seldom  mixes  them  together.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  small,  fine,  polished  form,  in  the  midst  of  rough  mis- 
shapen ground,  though  more  elegant  than  all  about 
it,  is  generally  no  better  than  a  patch,  itself  disgraced, 
and  disfiguring  the  scene.  A  thousand  instances 
might  be  produced  to  show,  that  the  prevailing  idea 
ought  to  pervade  every  part,  so  far  at  least  indis- 


192  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

pensably  as  to  exclude  whatever  distracts  it;  and  as 
much  farther  as  possible  to  accommodate  the  char- 
acter of  the  ground  to  that  of  the  scene  it  belongs  to. 
On  the  same  principle  the  proportion  of  the  parts 
may  often  be  adjusted;  for  though  their  size  must 
be  very  much  governed  by  the  extent  of  the  place ;  and 
a  feature,  which  would  fill  up  a  small  spot,  may  be 
lost  in  a  large  one ;  though  there  are  forms  of  a  par- 
ticular cast  which  appear  to  advantage  only  within 
certain  dimensions  and  ought  not,  therefore,  to  be 
applied,  where  they  have  not  room  enough,  or  where 
they  must  occupy  more  space  than  becomes  them; 
yet  independent  of  these  considerations,  a  character 
of  greatness  belongs  to  some  scenes  which  is  not 
measured  by  their  extent,  but  raised  by  other  prop- 
erties, sometimes  only  by  the  proportional  largeness 
of  their  parts.  On  the  contrary,  where  elegance 
characterizes  the  spot,  the  parts  should  not  only  be 
small,  but  diversified  with  subordinate  inequalities, 
and  little  delicate  touches  everywhere  scattered 
about  them.  Striking  effects,  forcible  impressions, 
whatever  seems  to  require  effort,  disturbs  the  en- 
joyment of  a  scene  intended  to  amuse  and  please. 
In  other  instances  similar  considerations  will  de- 
termine rather  the  number  than  the  proportion  of 
the  parts.  A  place  may  be  distinguished  by  its 
simplicity,  which  many  divisions  would  destroy; 
another  spot,  without  any  pretensions  to  elegance, 
may  be  remarkable  for  an  appearance  of  richness:  a 
multiplicity  of  objects  will  give  that  appearance,  and 


Grafting  anfc  Sbaping  Grounds  193 

a  number  of  parts  in  the  ground  will  contribute  to  the 
profusion.  A  scene  of  gaiety  is  improved  by  the 
same  means ;  the  objects  and  parts  may  differ  in  style, 
but  they  must  be  numerous  in  both.  Sameness  is 
dull;  the  purest  simplicity  can  at  the  most  render 
a  place  composed  of  large  parts  placid;  the  sublimest 
ideas  only  make  it  striking;  it  is  always  grave;  to 
enliven  it,  numbers  are  wanting. 

"But  ground  is  seldom  beautiful  or  natural  without 
variety  or  even  without  contrast,  and  the  precau- 
tions that  have  been  given  tend  no  further  than  to 
prevent  variety  from  degenerating  into  inconsist- 
ency and  contrast  into  contradiction.  Within  the 
extreme  nature  supplies  an  inexhaustible  fund;  and 
variety  thus  limited,  so  far  from  destroying  improves 
the  general  effect.  Each  distinguished  part  makes 
a  separate  impression ;  and  all  bearing  the  same  stamp, 
all  concurring  to  the  same  end,  every  one  is  an 
additional  support  to  the  prevailing  idea:  that  is 
multiplied;  it  is  extended,  it  appears  in  different 
shapes;  it  is  shown  in  several  lights;  and  the  variety 
illustrates  the  relation.  But  variety  wants  not  this 
recommendation:  it  is  always  desirable  when  it  can 
be  properly  introduced;  and  the  accurate  observer 
will  see  in  every  form  several  circumstances  by  which 
it  is  distinguished  from  every  other.  If  the  scene  be 
mild  and  quiet,  he  will  place  together  those  that  do 
not  differ  widely;  he  will  gradually  depart  from  the 
similitude.  In  ruder  scenes  the  succession  will  be  less 
regular,  and  the  transition  more  sudden.  The 
13 


194  %an&8cape  Hrcbitecture 

character  of  the  place  must  determine  the  degree  of 
difference  between  forms  which  are  contiguous. 
Besides  distinctions  in  the  shapes  of  the  ground, 
differences  in  their  situations  and  their  dimensions 
are  sources  of  variety.  The  position  will  alter  the 
effect,  though  the  figure  be  the  same;  and  for  par- 
ticular effects,  a  change  only  in  the  distance  may  be 
striking.  If  that  be  considerable,  a  succession  of 
similar  shapes  sometimes  occasions  a  fine  perspective ; 
but  the  diminution  will  be  less  marked,  that  is  the 
effect  will  be  less  sensible  if  the  forms  are  not  nearly 
alike;  we  take  more  notice  of  one  difference,  when 
there  is  no  other.  Sometimes  a  very  disagreeable 
result,  produced  by  too  close  a  resemblance  of  shapes, 
may  be  remedied  by  an  alteration  in  the  size.  If 
a  steep  descends  in  a  succession  of  abrupt  falls, 
nearly  equal,  they  have  an  appearance  of  steps;  and 
are  neither  pleasing  nor  wild,  but,  if  they  are  made 
to  differ  in  height  and  length,  the  objection  is  re- 
moved: and  at  all  times,  a  difference  in  the  dimen- 
sions will  be  found  to  have  a  greater  effect,  than  in 
speculation:  we  should  be  inclined  to  ascribe  to  it, 
and  will  often  disguise  a  similarity  of  figure.  It  also 
contributes  perhaps  more  than  any  other  circum- 
stance, to  the  perfection  of  those  lines  which  the  eye 
traces  along  the  parts  of  a  piece  of  ground  when  it 
glances  over  several  together.  No  variety  of  form 
compensates  for  the  want  of  it.  An  undulating 
line,  composed  of  parts  all  elegant  in  themselves, 
all  judiciously  contrasted  and  happily  united,  but 


(Brabing  ant>  Sbaping  Grounds  195 

equal  one  to  another,  is  far  from  the  line  of  beauty. 
A  long  straight  line  has  no  variety  at  all;  and  a  little 
deviation  into  a  curve,  if  there  be  still  a  continued 
conformity,  is  but  a  trifling  amendment.  Though 
ground  all  falling  the  same  way  requires  every 
attention  to  its  general  tendency,  yet  the  eye  must 
not  dart  down  the  whole  length,  immediately  in  one 
direction,  but  should  be  insensibly  conducted  to- 
wards the  principal  point  with  some  circuity  and 
delay.  The  channels  between  hillocks  ought  never 
to  run  in  straight,  nor  even  regularly  curved  lines; 
but  winding  gently  among  them,  and  constantly 
varying  in  form  and  in  dimensions  should  gradually 
find  their  way.  The  beauty  of  a  large  hill,  especially 
when  seen  from  below,  is  frequently  impaired  by 
the  even  continuation  of  its  brow.  An  attempt  to 
break  it  by  little  knolls  is  seldom  successful,  they 
seem  separate  independent  hillocks  artificially  put 
on.  The  intended  effect  may  indeed  be  produced  by 
a  large  knoll  descending  in  some  places  lower  than 
in  others,  and  rooted  in  several  points  in  the  hill. 
The  same  end  may  be  attained  by  carrying  some 
channel  or  hollow  on  the  side  upward  till  it  cut  the 
continued  line;  or  by  bringing  the  brow  forward  in 
one  place,  and  throwing  it  back  in  another,  or  by 
forming  a  secondary  ridge  a  little  way  down  the  side, 
and  casting  the  ground  above  it  into  a  different 
though  not  opposite  direction  to  the  general  descent. 
Any  of  these  expedients  will  at  least  draw  the  atten- 
tion off  from  the  defect;  but,  if  the  break  were  to 


196  OLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

divide  the  run  into  equal  parts,  another  uniformity 
would  be  added  without  removing  the  former;  for 
regularity  always  suggests  a  suspicion  of  artifice, 
and  artifice  detected  no  longer  deceives:  our  imagin- 
ation would  industriously  join  the  broken  parts  and 
the  idea  of  the  broken  line  would  be  restored. 

"  Whatever  break  be  chosen,  the  position  of  it  must 
be  oblique  to  the  line  which  is  to  be  broken.  A 
rectangular  division  produces  sameness;  there  is  no 
contrast  between  the  forms  it  divides;  but,  if  it  be 
oblique,  while  it  diminishes  the  part  on  one  side, 
it  enlarges  that  on  the  other.  Parallel  lines  are  liable 
to  the  same  objection  as  those  at  right  angles :  though 
each  by  itself  be  the  perfect  line  of  beauty,  yet,  if  they 
correspond,  they  form  a  shape  between  them,  whose 
sides  want  contrast.  On  the  same  principle  forms 
will  sometimes  be  introduced  less  for  their  intrinsic 
than  their  occasional  merit,  in  contrasting  happily 
with  those  about  them:  each  sets  off  the  other,  and 
together  they  are  a  more  agreeable  composition  than 
if  they  had  been  beautiful,  but  at  the  same  time  more 
similar.  One  reason  why  tame  scenes  are  seldom 
interesting  is,  that,  although  they  often  admit  of 
many  varieties,  they  allow  of  few,  and  those  only 
faint,  contrasts.  We  may  be  pleased  with  the 
number  of  the  former,  but  we  can  be  struck  only  by 
the  force  of  the  latter.  These  ought  to  abound  in  the 
larger  and  bolder  scenes  of  a  garden  especially  in  such 
as  are  formed  by  an  assemblage  of  many  distinct  and 
considerable  parts  thrown  together;  as  when  several 


o 


o 

0, 
3 
O 
u 

O 


(n 


W    8* 

§  I 
II 


Grafting  ant>  Sbaping  Grounds  197 

rising  grounds  appear  one  beyond  another,  a  fine  swell 
seen  above  a  slanting  swell  which  runs  before  it,  has 
a  beautiful  effect  which  a  nearer  effect  would  destroy : 
and  (except  in  particular  instances)  a  close  similarity 
in  lines  which  either  cross,  or  face,  or  rise  behind  one 
another,  makes  a  poor,  uniform,  disagreeable  com- 
position."1 

No  better  illustration  of  the  truth  of  these  remarks  of 
Thomas  Whately  can  be  found  than  the  north  meadows 
in  Central  Park  and  the  meadows  of  Prospect  Park, 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.  They  are  not  only  rolling  but  ridged 
up  in  long  mounds  at  places  as  if  fences  had  been 
removed  from  pasture  fields  and  the  headlands  left 
unle veiled.  See  illustration  of  north  meadow,  Central 
Park.  There  is  not  a  level  spot  on  this  meadow  to  all 
appearance;  and  when  one  thinks  of  it,  the  meadow 
or  pastureland,  the  fundamental  idea  of  a  park,  lawn, 
or  meadow  is  not  level.  A  cricket,  tennis,  or  bowl- 
ing court  is,  but  not  a  pasture  field.  Farms  do  not 
produce  level  meadows,  and  sheep  a^nd  cows  do  not 
wander  on  such  places.  It  is  the  swell  and  swing  of  the 
surface  coming  now  and  then  to  a  small  ridge  and  then 
dying  away  into  space  that  is  almost  level ;  it  is  the  rise 
and  fall,  the  becoming  and  dying  away  into  the  soft 
effect  of  the  almost  level.  The  same  idea  or  type  of 
treatment  is  evolved  here  as  in  the  plantations  and  lines 
of  walks  and  roads  and  rock  work  and  water  and  islands ; 
all  start  from  the  same  idea.  Let  any  one  try,  on  the 

1  Thomas  Whately,  Observations  on  Modern  Gardening. 


198  2lanoscape  Hrcbitecture 

other  hand,  to  make  a  level  meadow.  He  can  with 
difficulty  make  a  level  cricket  bowling  streak,  or  a  level 
tennis  court — much  less  a  large  meadow  a  mile  long  like 
the  one  in  Prospect  Park.  The  eye  will  deceive  one, 
and  the  place  will  never  look  level  from  every  point  of 
view.  It  will  seem  convex  or  concave  and,  worst  of 
all,  it  will  look  as  if  an  attempt  had  been  made  to 
produce  a  level  territory  and  had  failed.  The  sense  of 
that  kind  of  failure  is  always  trying  to  any  one  who  can 
understand  the  end  which  is  sought. 

Many  people's  sense  of  these  niceties  of  landscape  art 
is  so  obtuse  and  imperfect  that  they  will  at  "one  fell 
swoop"  destroy  these  fine  "nuances"  of  grading. 
This  has  indeed  been  done  in  Central  Park  through 
ignorant  and,  therefore,  unintentional  treatment  of  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  meadows  near  59th  Street,  a 
meadow  which  has  been  spoken  of  as  the  most  expen- 
sive piece  of  work  of  the  same  size  in  the  area  of  the 
park ;  all  spoiled  by  unintelligent  grading.  Of  all  under- 
takings of  the  landscape  gardener,  grading  is  the  last 
to  be  left  to  the  skill  of  the  common  day  labourer.  It 
would  be  just  as  sensible  a  proceeding  to  set  the  quarry- 
man  who  hews  and  blasts  out  the  stone  from  the 
hillside  to  carve  a  copy  of  some  great  statue.  Yet  the 
landscape  gardener  at  his  best  can  never  hope  to  create 
work  like  nature  when  she  is  at  her  finest.  He  can  only 
work  in  what  he  believes  to  be  the  same  style,  but  never 
quite  in  the  same  style  as  she  presents  when  she  works 
in  her  best  mood.  He  can  enter  into  her  spirit,  but 
never  quite  reach  her  heart. 


Grafting  anfc  Sbaping  Grounds  199 

The  illustration  of  Mr.  Agar's  estate  is  introduced 
to  show  how  the  shape  of  a  lawn  can  be  graded  so  as 
to  give  the  impression  of  no  change  of  surface  what- 
ever, just  a  retention  of  the  natural  character  of  the 
place  by  blending  and  moulding  the  contour  lines  of 
the  ground. 

The  centre  of  the  lawn  to  the  north  has  been  greatly 
depressed,  and  still  further  to  the  north  it  has  been 
raised  considerably  and  trees  and  shrubs  planted  to 
shut  out  an  unattractive  view. 


XII 

PLANTATIONS 

"  r  I  ^HE  first  requirement  of  a  landscape  is  the 
vigorous  growth  of  all  plants.  The  finest 
forms  of  mountains  and  lakes,  all  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  sun  and  sky,  combined  with  the  naked 
rocks  and  bare  lakes  cannot  replace  the  luxuriant 
growth  of  various  forms  of  trees,  and  the  diversified 
pleasing  green  and  rich  foliage  and  meadows.  Fortu- 
nate the  man  to  whom  his  forbears  have  bequeathed 
lofty  woods,  old  oaks,  beeches,  and  lindens,  these 
proud  giants  of  our  Northern  clime,  standing  there 
still  untouched  by  the  woodman's  murderous  axe. 
He  should  never  regard  them  without  veneration  and 
delight,  he  should  cherish  them  as  the  apple  of  his 
eye,  for  neither  money  nor  power,  neither  a  Croesus 
nor  an  Alexander,  can  restore  an  oak  a  thousand 
years  old  in  its  wonderful  majesty  after  the  poor 
labourer  has  felled  it.  Terrible  and  swift  is  the 
destructive  power  of  man,  but  poor  and  weak  is  his 
power  of  rebuilding.  May  an  ancient  tree  be  to  you, 
kind  reader,  who  love  nature,  a  holy  thing.  And 

200 


plantations  201 

yet,  here  also,  the  individual  tree  must  be  sacrificed, 
if  need  be,  to  the  general  group. 

"It  may  happen  that  a  tree  which,  taken  alone 
is  most  beautiful,  does  really  disturb  the  effectiveness 
and  harmony  of  the  whole,  and  then  it  must  be 
sacrificed.  Such  occasions  however  are  very  rare, 
and  I  unfortunately  know  from  my  own  experience 
that  a  slight  alteration  of  my  plans  would  often 
be  sufficient  to  spare  a  precious  veteran  whose  ex- 
ecution at  first  seemed  unavoidable.  At  all  events, 
before  applying  the  executioner's  axe,  be  sure  to 
deliberate  not  once  but  many  times.  It  may  be 
that  the  importance  which  I  give  to  this  matter  may 
appear  exaggerated,  yet  a  true  lover  of  nature  will 
understand  me,  and  excuse  the  qualms  of  conscience 
that  half  a  dozen  trees  murdered  without  reason 
continue  to  cause  me.  On  the  other  hand,  my  only 
consolation  is  that  by  boldly  cutting  down  other 
trees  I  have  made  such  great  improvements,  that 
the  gain  outbalances  the  loss.  Besides,  there  is  no 
denying  that  more  can  be  accomplished  in  one  day 
by  the  removal  of  a  few  big  trees,  than  by  planting 
thousands  of  specimens  in  a  hundred  years,  and  that 
the  loss  of  a  couple  of  these  is  not  to  be  regretted  if 
their  number  is  increased  a  hundred-fold  to  the  eye 
by  making  so  many  others  visible  which  had  pre- 
viously been  quite  obscured.  This  is  so  certain, 
that,  although  I  have  not  been  blessed  with  a  surplus 
of  ancient  trees  in  my  park,  yet  I  have  succeeded 
in  apparently  multiplying  tenfold  the  number  of 


202  Slanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

them  left  standing.  These  are  visible  now  from 
all  points,  by  the  removal  of  some  eighty  others. 
One  is  often  struck  by  the  fact  in  such  cases  that 
'One  cannot  see  the  woods  for  the  trees.'  The 
great  art  in  laying  out  a  park  consists  in  making  use 
of  comparatively  few  objects  in  such  a  way  that  a 
great  variety  of  different  pictures  result,  in  which  the 
recurrent  elements  are  not  recognized,  or  at  least 
produce  novel  and  surprising  effects. "  * 

A  tree :  a  live  organism,  a  unit  in  the  landscape 
scheme  of  the  park,  country  place,  or  garden;  a  unit 
that  may  live  six  months  or  a  hundred  years,  working 
out  its  own  peculiar  nature  and  office  in  the  service 
of  the  general  artistic  life  that  should  inform  every 
scheme  of  landscape  gardening.  It  is  a  living,  individ- 
ual member  of  the  whole  conception,  differing  entirely 
from  the  blocks  of  wood  or  stone  in  the  architectural 
design  of  a  building.  It  is  not  only  a  life,  but  in- 
numerable lives  within  its  life  to  the  very  core  of  its 
being.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  a  tree  or  a  flower  may 
readily  take  on  apparently  something  of  the  person- 
ality of  a  human  being.  The  birch  becomes  the 
dainty,  delicate,  airy,  graceful  lady  of  the  woods,  the 
oak  a  monarch  among  his  subjects. 

Where  is  the  line  that  can  be  taken  to  mark  the 
separation  of  the  life  of  the  plant  from  that  of  man  and 
define  its  essential  difference?  At  what  point  of  de- 
velopment does  personality  come  into  being  in  the 

1  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening,  Prince  Piickler. 


A  Diagram  Showing  Arrangement  of  Trees  and  Shrubs. 


Diagrams  Showing  Arrangements  of  Rivers,  Lakes,  and  Islands. 
From  Piickler's  Atlas,  1834. 


plantations  203 

plant  and  in  the  animal  and  for  that  matter  in  man? 
Do  they  not  break  through  boundary  lines  and  over- 
lap? Does  not  something  of  a  personality,  a  spirit  or 
soul,  appear  in  the  widely  differing  forms  of  all  three 
of  them? 

Aristotle  says  in  explanation  of  this  line  of  thought : 

"Now  all  things  in  the  universe  are  so  somehow 
ordered  together,  whatever  swims  in  the  sea,  or 
flies  in  the  air,  or  grows  on  the  earth,  but  not  all  in 
like  fashion;  nothing  exists  apart  and  without  some 
kind  of  relation  with  the  rest,  for  all  things  are  or- 
dered in  relation  with  one  end. " 

Hegel  writes  as  follows  in  Philosophy  of  Religion: 

"it  belongs  to  the  very  nature  of  unity  that  it  should 
thus  break  up  into  parts," 

and  that  each  of  these  parts  should  have  distinct 
relations  of  its  own,  which  become  eventually  one 
complete  scheme  or  whole,  and  with 

"this  individuality  goes  in  each  case  the  natural 
impulse  of  self-preservation — what  Spinoza  calls 
the  conatus  in  suo  esse  per  sever  andi,  the  effort  to" 

maintain  its  own  being ;  but  why  should  not  we  say  of 
the  tree  as  of  man,  only  in  different  degree,  that  here 

"the  conatus  in  suo  esse  per  sever  andi  swells  into  a 
demand  for  happiness,  for  a  perfect  completion  and 
manifestation  of  its  special  being  in  which  nothing 
shall  be  left  to  be  wished  or  hoped  for?" 


204  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitectute 

"It  has  taken  a  long  process  of  evolution  before 
man  could  conceive  the  idea  of  a  rational  organic 
order  of  the  universe,  in  which  each  particular  ele- 
ment, though  rejected  as  an  end  in  itself,  might  be 
reinstated  as  a  necessary  element  of  the  whole,  and 
all  with  justice  done  to  their  special  characteristics 
might  be  united  in  " * 

an  all-embracing  scheme,  whether  it  be  a  landscape  or  a 
whole  world.  Further  we  may  say  that  even  in  the 
consciousness  of  an  animal  (and  why  not  in  that  of 
a  plant?)  there  is  such  a  universal  unity  that  it  would 
be  absurd  to  treat  its  different  appetites  as  isolated  or 
standing  in  merely  external  relations  to  each  other. 
Each  animal  and  plant  we  may  believe 

"feels  itself  in  all  it  feels,  and  this  gives  an  individual 
unity  to  its  life  through  all  its  changes,"  "indeed 
three  fourths  of  our  own  actions  are  governed  by 
memory  and  most  frequently  we  act  like  animals: 
plants  also  act,  and  if  they  do  not  think,  at  least  feel 
(which  is  still  thought),  though  more  dimly  than 
animals."  J 

As  Goethe  profoundly  observes : 

"the  material  world  (animal  or  vegetable,  animate 
or  inanimate)  can  only  be  truly  realized  as  the  living 
garment  of  Deity." 

John  Henry  Newman  was  a  poet  and  his  instinct  had 

1  Leibnitz. 


Diagrams  Showing  Arrangement  of  Trees  and  Shrubs. 


A  Diagram  Showing  Different  Arrangements  of  Islands. 

From  Puckler's  Atlas,  1834. 


plantations  205 

an  element  of  truth  in  it  when  he  wrote  as  follows 
in  his  Apologia  sua  Vita: 

"Again  I  ask  what  would  be  the  thoughts  of  a 
man  who  when  examining  a  flower,  or  an  herb,  or  a 
pebble,  or  a  ray  of  light,  which  he  treats  as  something 
so  beneath  him  in  the  scale  of  existence,  suddenly 
discovered  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  some 
powerful  being  who  was  hidden  behind  the  visible 
things  he  was  inspecting, — who  though  concealing 
the  wise  hand,  was  giving  them  their  beauty,  grace, 
and  perfection,  as  being  God's  instruments  for  the 
purpose, — nay,  whose  robe  and  ornaments  those 
objects  were,  which  he  was  so  eager  to  analyse?" 

Following  the  idea  of  a  plant  possessing  a  distinct 
personality,  it  will  be  found  that  it  is  not  altogether 
fanciful.  Some  trees  and  shrubs  and  flowers  in  the  land- 
scape have,  in  a  way,  a  liking  for  each  other,  a  kind  of 
kinship,  that  is  not  of  the  botanical  sort,  but  simply 
an  apparent  wish  to  grow  side  by  side.  A  bush  honey- 
suckle naturally  likes  to  live  with  a  highbush  cranberry 
or  an  arrowwood  bush  ( Viburnum  dentatum) ;  the  lilac, 
on  the  other  hand,  belongs  by  itself  in  the  garden  in 
a  more  civilized  sophisticated  state  of  existence;  the 
beautiful  hawthorns,  both  American  and  English, 
belong  by  themselves  in  the  wilder  and  more  outlying 
portions  of  the  park  or  estate.  So  we  might  go  on 
with  shrubs  and  trees  of  all  kinds  and  find  always  that 
there  was  one  spot  and  one  kind  of  companionship 
where  any  particular  tree  or  shrub  looked  especially 


206  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttectute 

happy  and  behaved  especially  well.  Considering  plants 
as  live  creatures,  whose  strange  idiosyncrasies  are  often 
seemingly  almost  past  finding  out  except  by  the  most 
sympathetic  and  penetrative  study,  we  should  start 
first  to  dispose  certain  of  them  in  the  landscape  design 
as  if  we  were  blocking  in  the  outlines  of  a  picture  indicat- 
ing the  main  and  controlling  features  of  the  group  or 
place.  To  mark  this  distinctive  character  only  a  few 
kinds  of  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers  are  really  necessary, 
the  ones  that  assume  such  forms  that  the  eye  instinc- 
tively singles  them  out  in  any  group.  It  may  be  said, 
with  truth,  that  a  park  could  be  planted  effectively 
with  twelve  trees,  twelve  shrubs,  and  twelve  herbaceous 
plants.  This  means  that  if  such  kinds  as  an  oak  or 
elm,  a  linden,  a  maple,  a  plane  tree,  a  birch,  a  spruce,  a 
pine,  a  yew,  an  iris,  a  hollyhock,  a  phlox,  a  chrysanthe- 
mum were  chosen,  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  make 
a  great  place,  perfectly  designed  in  all  essential  ways. 
Of  course,  it  would  not  be  the  greatest  effect  possible, 
because  it  would  lack  the  fine,  more  recondite  inter- 
mediate gradations  of  colour  and  form  that  would  come 
in  a  less  distinctive  fashion  from  the  employment  of  a 
large  variety  of  hardy  ornamental  plants.  It  is  not 
only  necessary  to  punctuate,  as  it  were,  with  marked 
trees  and  shrubs,  the  outlines  or  articulations  of  each 
member  of  the  group,  but  of  the  group  within  the 
group,  so  that  the  lineaments  of  these  familiar  con- 
structive features  may  direct  the  eye  to  the  actual 
composition  of  the  design. 

Further  than  this,  it  is  necessary  to  go  on  to  the 


Lychnia  Vesiaria  fl.  pleno 
Campanula   medium  ...... 


Svringa  Bulgaria  fl< 

Ldtium  bulhiferum  ................ 

Rabiu  odcratus   ................... 

Spiraea   hvpevicifolia  .......... 

Lonicera.  tartarica  fl.  rubro, 


I  .unaria    vederiva 
Roiia    centifolia. 


•Syring'a    -vuljfans    fl.  albo 


.  rrtft.        f/raf 
Wa.          fit* 


jhO, 
jfui 


spot. 

Tvs/t,        ffiat 
Hajtrvttt,    fm* 


tf.  Rhus   CothuiR 

/»  1'oto.Ulla  fru t  ioosa    

Jjf  Syringa  vulgaj-is  fl.  rubro 

yS.  Spiraea  f alicifolia  fl.  rubro 

./£  Jentbudtnt  Rtfav. . 


%•/  Bipaver  hracteata  

%S  Btvladelphus  coronarius  

3$  Craetaegtas  oxia  ra,  it  ha  fl.  pleno  rubro 

?4  Coliitea,  arborefiens     

%?  fapaver  bracteata 


nxtfi,        S/iat 


quit 
Jrie* 


Dtf  naMur  Airdt  andtrr  SommerWiunm  trftM  mer&n  tanf,          Sftat 


K  Diagram  Showing  Arrangement  of  Shrubs  and  Herbaceous  Plants. 

From  Piickler's  Atlas,  1834. 


plantations  207 

establishment  of  a  type  of  tree  grouping,  as  well  as 
shrubs  and  flowers,  and  make  units  of  effect  which  may 
be  used  with  variations  over  and  over  again,  as  far  as 
their  combinations  of  high  and  low  size  and  contradic- 
tions or  contrasts  of  colour  and  form  will  permit.  One 
mass  will  now  for  a  moment  conflict  with  another  and 
then  flow  over  and  blend  with  it.  There  will  be  sharp 
contrasts  and  then  gradually  the  smoothest  blendings. 
It  is  difficult  to  convey  the  idea  of  just  how  this  can  be 
done.  It  takes  long  practice  and  the  study  of  nature 
in  many  moods.  The  observant  eye  well  recognizes 
in  fields  and  forest  glades  wonderful  exhibitions  of  how 
such  work  can  be  accomplished.  It  will  be  discovered 
how  the  black  alder  grows  among  its  native  compan- 
ions; who  are  these  companions,  how  they  behave 
when  associated  together,  what  soil  and  what  exposure 
they  like.  An  intimate  knowledge  of  each  should  be 
acquired. 

The  types  of  growth  should  be  allowed  to  assert 
themselves  freely.  Instead  of  a  group  of  high  and  low 
growths,  a  single  tree,  or  three  specimens,  may  stand 
out  almost  alone  with  a  few  attendant  shrubs  trailing 
along  in  the  neighbourhood.  Perhaps  farther  on  there 
may  be  a  different  kind  of  tree  standing  on  the  very 
edge  of  a  solid  group  with  a  few  scattering  shrubs  around 
it.  Then  again  there  will  be  one  noble  specimen  of 
tree  form  standing  entirely  alone  as  if  it  were  sufficient 
unto  itself  and  brooked  no  companion,  or  there  might 
be  several  in  a  grove.  Such  trees  are,  whether  out  in 
the  middle  of  the  lawn,  or  in  a  grassy  glade  near  a  path, 


208  Xan&scape  Hrcbttecture 

the  one  most  valuable  feature  of  the  picture.  They 
lend  dignity  and  character  more  than  any  other  mem- 
ber of  the  association  of  trees  and  shrubs  growing  on  the 
lawn,  and,  when  combined  with  the  loosely  planted 
shrubs  in  the  neighbourhood,  a  mystical  and  enlarged 
effect  in  the  distance  is  often  thus  produced  which  is 
of  the  greatest  value  in  the  landscape.  The  following 
quotation  may  give  some  suggestion  of  how  such  a 
difficult  grouping  should  be  managed: 

"[A  newly  planted  group]  or  a  natural  woods 
properly  thinned  out  seems  to  show  an  inlet  into  a 
wood  that  has  been  cut,  if  the  opposite  points  of  the 
entrance  tally,  that  gives  a  show  of  art  and  depreci- 
ates its  merit;  but  a  difference  only  in  the  situation 
of  those  points,  by  bringing  one  more  forward  than 
the  other,  prevents  the  appearance  though  the  forms 
be  similar.  Other  points  which  distinguish  the 
great  parts  should  in  general  be  strongly  marked;  a 
short  turn  has  more  spirit  in  it  than  a  tedious  cir- 
cuity;  and  a  line  broken  by  angles  has  a  precision  and 
firmness  which  in  an  undulated  line  are  wanting: 
the  angles  should,  indeed,  commonly  be  a  little 
softened;  the  rotundity  of  the  plant  which  forms 
them  is  sometimes  sufficient  for  the  purpose;  but  if 
they  are  mellowed  down  too  much  they  lose  all  mean- 
ing. Three  or  four  large  parts,  thus  boldly  dis- 
tinguished, will  break  a  very  long  outline ;  more  may 
be,  and  often  ought  to  be,  thrown  in,  but  seldom  are 
necessary :  when  two  woods  are  opposed  on  the  sides 


plantations  209 

of  a  narrow  glade,  neither  has  so  much  occasion  for 
variety  in  itself,  as  if  it  were  single:  if  they  are  very 
different  from  each  other,  the  contrast  supplies  the 
deficiency  in  each,  and  the  interval  is  full  of  variety. 
The  form  of  that  interval  is,  indeed,  of  as  much  con- 
sequence as  its  own;  though  the  outline  of  both  the 
woods  be  separately  beautiful,  yet  if  together  they 
do  not  cast  the  open  space  into  an  agreeable  figure, 
the  whole  scene  is  not  pleasing;  and  the  figure  is 
never  agreeable  when  the  sides  too  closely  cor- 
respond; whether  they  are  exactly  the  same,  or 
exactly  the  reverse  of  each  other,  they  equally 
appear  artificial. 

Every  variety  of  outline  hitherto  mentioned  may 
be  traced  by  the  underwood  alone,  but  frequently  the 
same  effects  may  be  produced  with  more  ease,  and 
with  much  more  beauty,  by  a  few  trees  standing  out 
from  the  thicket,  and  belonging  to,  or  seeming  to 
belong  to,  the  wood  so  as  to  make  a  part  of  its  figure. 
Even  where  they  are  not  wanted  for  that  purpose, 
detached  trees  are  such  agreeable  objects,  so  distinct, 
so  light,  when  compared  to  the  covert  about  them, 
that  skirting  along  it  in  some  parts,  and  breaking  it 
in  others,  they  give  an  unaffected  grace,  which  can 
no  otherwise  be  given  to  the  outline.  They  have  a 
still  further  effect,  when  they  stretch  across  the  whole 
breadth  of  an  inlet,  or  before  part  of  a  recess  in  the 
woods;  they  are  themselves  shown  to  advantage  by 
the  space  between  them,  and  that  space  seen  between 
their  stems  they  in  turn  throw  into  an  agreeable 
14 


210  !Hant>scape  Hrcbitectute 

perspective.  An  inferior  grace  of  the  same  kind  may 
be  often  introduced,  only  by  distinguishing  the  boles 
of  some  trees  in  the  wood  itself,  and  keeping  down  the 
thicket  beneath  them.  Where  this  cannot  be  well 
executed,  still  the  outline  may  be  filled  with  such 
trees  and  shrubs  as  swell  out  in  the  middle  of  their 
growth  and  diminish  at  both  ends;  or  with  such  as 
rise  in  a  slender  cone;  with  those  whose  branches  tend 
upwards ;  or  whose  base  is  very  small  in  proportion  to 
their  height ;  or  which  are  very  thin  of  boughs  and  of 
leaves.  In  a  confined  garden  scene  which  wants 
room  for  the  effect  of  detached  trees,  the  outline  will 
be  heavy,  if  these  little  attentions  are  disregarded. 
As  for  the  kind  of  trees  to  be  used,  good  taste  and 
experience  must  be  left  to  make  the  selection.  "x 

The  following  words  of  Richard  Jefferies  will  perhaps 
be  found  helpful  as  explaining  how  the  character  of 
trees  counts  in  the  landscape : 

"I  listened  to  the  sweet  Briar  Wind;  but  for  weeks 
and  weeks  the  dark  black  oaks  stood  straight  out  of 
the  snow  as  masts  of  ships  with  furled  sails  frozen 
and  ice-bound  in  the  haven  of  the  deep  valley. " 

"Thick  are  Hawthorn  leaves,  many  deep  on  the 
spray;  and  beneath  them  there  is  a  twisted  and 
interentangled  winding  in  and  out  of  boughs,  such  as 
no  curious  ironwork  of  ancient  artist  could  equal; 
through  the  leaves  and  metal  work  of  boughs  the  soft 
west  wind  wafts  us  at  his  ease. " 

1  Thomas  Whately,  Observations  on  Modern  Gardening. 


plantations  211 

"The  bark  of  the  beech  is  itself  a  panel  to  study, 
spotted  with  velvet  moss  brown  green,  made  grey  by 
close-grown  lichens,  stained  with  its  own  hues  of 
growth  and  toned  by  time.  To  these  add  bright 
sunlight  and  leaf  shadow,  the  sudden  lowering  of 
tint  as  a  cloud  passes,  the  different  aspects  of  the  day 
and  of  the  evening,  and  the  change  of  rain  and  dry 
weather.  You  may  look  at  the  bark  of  a  beech 
twenty  times,  and  always  find  it  different.  There  is 
another  spirit  among  beech  trees ;  they  look  like  deer 
and  memories  of  old  English  Life. " 

The  sense  of  distant  space  outside  of  the  estate  is 
always  desirable.  If  these  single  trees  and  scattering 
shrubs  can  seem  to  lose  themselves  over  the  crest  of  a 
hill  into  the  sky  it  increases  the  mystery  and  sense  of 
largeness,  the  feeling  that  one  might  own  the  Universe. 
Richard  Jefferies  expresses  this  idea  when  he  writes  as 
follows  in  Field  and  Hedgerow: 

"Still  higher  and  as  the  firs  cease,  and  shower  and 
sunshine,  wind  and  dew  can  reach  the  ground  un- 
checked, comes  the  tufted  heath  branched  heather  of 
the  moorland  top.  A  thousand  acres  of  purple 
heather  sloping  southward  to  the  sun,  deep  valleys 
of  dark  heather,  further  slopes  beyond  of  purple,  more 
valleys  of  heather — the  heath  shows  more  in  the  sun- 
light, and  heather  darkens  the  shadows  of  the  hollows 
—and  so  on  and  on,  mile  after  mile,  till  the  heath 
bells  seem  to  end  in  the  sunset.  Round  and  beyond 
is  the  immense  plairi  of  the  air — you  feel  how  limit- 


212  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

less  the  air  is  at  this  height,  for  there  is  nothing  to 
measure  it  by.  Past  the  weald  lie  the  south  Downs, 
but  they  form  no  boundary,  the  plain  of  the  air  goes 
over  them  to  the  sea  and  space. " 

It  is  really  a  case  of  simplicity  in  variety,  a  type 
repeated  and  varied,  becoming  something  new  con- 
tinually, evolving  new  charms,  yet  keeping  in  view  a 
definite  and  foreordained  unified  beauty  that  is  active 
and  changing,  but  unlike  a  river  that  flows  on  and  on, 
the  type  is  ever  returning  on  itself,  melting  together 
and  anon  conflicting,  contrasting,  dominating  one  over 
the  other,  and  all  the  time  actively  advancing  to  new 
conquests  of  beauty,  to  new  charms  of  blended  form  and 
colour.  It  is  like  the  way  the  association  of  mother 
and  child  actively  helps  to  develop  the  beauties  of  the 
characters  of  each  person,  bringing  out  the  charm  more 
and  more  the  longer  they  live  together,  or  if  mismanage- 
ment of  their  relations  occurs,  the  same  tendency  to 
discord  and  deterioration  will  reveal  itself.  The  trees 
and  shrubs  are  worked  into  a  scheme,  type  within 
type  making  the  picture  fuse  together  after  presenting 
different  degrees  of  contrast,  and  finally  wooing  it  to 
enter  into  a  union  where  the  parts  are  hardly  perceptible 
to  the  general  sweep  of  the  eye.  The  play  of  forces  ends 
in  a  picture,  which  in  every  way  continues  to  change 
day  by  day  while  remaining  of  the  same  general  char- 
acter. If  the  woodland  glades  and  the  fields  and  hedge- 
row are  studied  in  the  light  of  these  suggestions,  their 
value  will  be  more  and  more  verified.  The  only  differ- 


plantations  213 

ence  is  that  there  will  be  then  a  conscious  recognition  of 
the  truth,  whereas  in  the  many  cases  that  have  already 
happened  in  the  past,  the  best  kind  of  such  landscape 
work  has  been  done  on  instinctively  right  lines.  The 
best  work  is  usually  done  by  a  man  who  cannot  tell  you 
why  he  did  it. 

The  experience  of  thinning  out  forest  trees  in  connec- 
tion with  a  park  or  country  place  will  teach  many  things 
if  it  is  done  seriously.  Most  people  do  not  carry  it  on 
seriously.  It  is  really  almost  as  difficult  an  undertak- 
ing as  to  create  a  new  place.  It  will  be  found  that  all 
the  above  ideas  enunciated  should  be  controlling  in  the 
management  of  this  work,  and  its  combination  with  new 
planting  is  the  most  difficult  task  of  all.  Thomas 
Whately  gives  the  following  advice,  which  is  good  as 
far  as  it  goes  but  it  does  not  go  quite  far  enough : 

"  It  is  not  however  foreign  to  the  subject  to  observe, 
that  the  effects  that  have  been  recommended  may 
sometimes  be  produced  by  wood  alone,  without  any 
alteration  in  the  ground  itself:  a  tedious  continued 
line  may  by  such  means  be  broken ;  it  is  usual  for  this 
purpose  to  place  several  little  clumps  along  a  brow ; 
but  if  they  are  small  and  numerous  the  artifice  is  weak 
and  apparent :  an  equal  number  of  trees  collected  into 
one  or  two  large  masses,  and  dividing  the  line  into 
very  unequal  parts  is  less  suspicious,  and  obliterates 
the  idea  of  sameness  with  more  certainty.  When 
several  similar  lines  are  seen  together,  if  one  be 
planted,  and  the  other  bare,  they  become  contrasts  to 


214  3Lant>0cape  Hrcbitecture 

each  other.  A  hollow  in  certain  situations  has  been 
mentioned  as  a  disagreeable  interruption  to  a  con- 
tinued surface ;  but  filled  with  wood,  the  heads  of  the 
trees  supply  the  vacancy ;  the  irregularity  is  preserved ; 
even  the  inequalities  of  the  depth  are  in  some  meas- 
ure shown,  and  a  continuation  of  surface  is  provided. 
Rising  ground  may,  on  the  other  hand,  be  in  appear- 
ance raised  still  higher,  by  covering  it  with  wood,  of 
humble  growth  toward  the  bottom  and  gradually 
taller  as  it  ascends.  An  additional  mark  of  the 
inclination  of  falling  ground  may  also  be  obtained 
by  placing  a  few  trees  in  the  same  direction,  which 
will  strongly  point  out  the  way;  whereas  plantations 
athwart  a  descent,  bolster  up  the  ground,  and  check 
the  fall;  but  obliquely  crossing  it,  they  will  often  di- 
vert the  general  tendency;  the  ground  will  in  some 
measure  assume  their  direction,  and  they  will  make 
a  variety  not  a  contradiction.  Hedges,  or  continued 
plantations,  carried  over  uneven  ground,  render  the 
irregularities  more  conspicuous,  and  frequently  mark 
little  inequalities  which  would  otherwise  escape  ob- 
servation: or  if  a  line  of  trees  run  close  upon  an 
edge  of  an  abrupt  fall,  they  give  it  depth  and  impor- 
tance. By  such  means  a  view  may  be  improved ;  by 
similar  means  in  more  confined  spots,  very  material 
purposes  may  be  answered. 

"  Though  the  surface  of  the  wood  when  commanded 

deserves  all  these  attentions,  yet  the  outline  more 

'  frequently  calls  for  our  regard ;  it  is  also  more  in  our 

power;  it  may  sometimes  be  great,  and  may  always 


plantations  215 

be  beautiful.  The  first  requisite  is  irregularity. 
That  a  mixture  of  trees  and  underwood  should  form 
a  long  straight  line,  can  never  be  natural;  and  a  suc- 
cession of  easy  sweeps  and  gentle  rounds,  each 
a  portion  of  a  greater  or  less  circle,  composing  alto- 
gether a  line  literally  serpentine,  is  if  possible  worse. 
It  is  but  a  number  of  regularities  put  together  in 
a  disorderly  manner,  and  equally  distant  from  the 
beautiful  both  of  art  and  of  nature.  The  true  beauty 
of  outline  consists  more  in  breaks  than  in  sweeps; 
rather  in  angles  than  in  rounds;  in  variety,  not  in 
succession. 

"The  outline  of  a  wood  is  a  continued  line,  and 
small  variations  do  not  save  it  from  the  insipidity  of 
sameness.  One  deep  recess,  one  bold  prominence,  has 
more  effect  than  twenty  little  irregularities.  That 
one  divides  the  line  into  parts,  but  no  breach  is 
thereby  made  in  its  unity;  a  continuation  of  wood 
always  remains;  the  form  of  it  only  is  altered,  and 
the  extent  is  increased.  The  eye,  which  hurries  to 
the  extremity  of  whatever  is  uniform,  delights  to 
trace  a  varied  line  through  all  its  intricacies,  to  pause 
from  stage  to  stage,  and  to  lengthen  the  progress. 
The  parts  must  not,  however,  on  that  account,  be 
multiplied,  till  they  are  too  minute  to  be  interesting, 
and  so  numerous  as  to  create  confusion.  A  few  large 
parts  should  be  strongly  distinguished  in  their  forms, 
their  directions,  and  their  situations;  each  of  them 
may  afterwards  be  decorated  with  subordinate  varie- 
ties; and  the  mere  growth  of  the  plants  will  occasion 


216  SLanfcscape  Hrcbftecture 

some  irregularity ;  on  many  occasions  more  will  not  be 
required.  Every  variety  in  the  outline  of  a  wood  must 
be  a  prominence  or  a  recess.  Breadth  in  either  is  not 
so  important  as  length  to  the  one  and  depth  to  the 
other.  If  the  former  ends  in  an  angle,  the  latter  di- 
minishes to  a  point,  they  have  more  force  than  a  shal- 
low dent,  or  a  dwarf  excrescence,  how  wide  so  ever. 
They  are  greater  deviations  from  the  continued  line 
which  they  are  intended  to  break ;  and  their  effect  is 
to  enlarge  the  wood  itself,  which  seems  to  stretch 
from  the  most  advanced  point,  back  beyond  the  most 
distant  to  which  it  retires.  The  extent  of  a  large 
wood  on  a  flat,  not  commanded,  can  by  no  circum- 
stance be  so  manifestly  shown,  as  by  a  deep  recess; 
especially  if  that  deep  recess  winds  so  as  to  conceal  the 
extremity  and  leave  the  imagination  to  pursue  it."1 

It  is  not  sufficiently  realized  by  most  people,  even 
after  hard  experience,  how  difficult  it  is  to  grow  plants 
in  the  shade  among  the  roots  of  a  piece  of  woodland. 
It  would  be  easy  to  mention  several  trees  and  shrubs 
that  have  the  reputation  of  doing  well  when  planted 
in  the  woods,  which  in  the  final  test  generally  fail. 
The  presence  of  freshly  cultivated  and  enriched  soil, 
either  on  the  ground  or  brought  from  elsewhere,  will 
greatly  encourage  the  growth  of  such  plants,  but  to 
really  succeed  a  great  deal  of  light  should  be  let  in, 
and  even  under  such  circumstances  too  much  confidence 
in  the  expected  good  results  should  not  prevail. 

1  Observations  on  Modern  Gardening. 


plantations  217 

Plants  suitable  for  landscape  gardening  purposes 
naturally  separate  themselves  into  the  following  broad 
divisions:  Deciduous  trees,  evergreen  trees,  deciduous 
shrubs,  evergreen  shrubs,  perennial  or  herbaceous 
plants,  and  bedding  or  subtropical  plants.  There  is  no 
intention  here  of  considering  the  habits,  appearance, 
or  methods  of  propagating  these  plants.  Our  subject 
is  landscape  gardening,  not  horticulture,  not  arboricul- 
ture or  forestry,  not  soil  culture  nor  grass  culture. 
The  principles  and  art  of  landscape  gardening  and  its 
evolution  in  nature  and  history  are  the  topics  we  are 
studying. 

Evergreens  occupy  a  position  and  perform  functions 
that  count  greatly  in  the  general  purpose  of  the  lawn. 
They  produce  the  solid  effects,  the  strong  shadows,  the 
enduring  colours  throughout  the  season.  They  shield 
the  smaller,  or  less  rugged  plants,  trees,  or  shrubs 
from  the  cold  winds  of  winter,  especially  of  March  and 
April.  In  their  alcoves  and  in  the  shelters  behind  their 
promontories  they  cherish  and  preserve  alive  many 
shrubs  and  perennials  (flowers)  that  would  otherwise 
wither  under  the  cold  winds  and  hot  suns  of  early 
spring.  Here  again  that  strange  instinct  is  felt  which 
makes  one  like  to  see  a  great  mass  of  evergreens  inter- 
mingled with  hardly  any  deciduous  trees,  stretching  out 
in  sweeping  lines  of  form  and  colour,  spirey  and  spread- 
ing, low  or  high,  spruce,  cedar,  hemlock,  pine,  or  juniper, 
blue,  silver,  green  and  fiery  red,  crimson  and  dainty 
pink,  June  and  November,  ever  changing,  boldly 
flaunting,  or  softly  melting  into  delicate  tender  hues. 


2i8  Landscape  Hrcbitecture 

Evergreens  form  all  the  year  round  a  very  positive 
feature  in  the  landscape,  and  require  the  nicest  disposi- 
tion of  colour  and  form  to  establish  pleasant  and  harmo- 
nious relations  between  different  members  of  the  lawn 
vegetation.  There  are  colours  of  trees  and  shrubs  that 
are  offensive,  why  it  is  rather  difficult  to  say.  For  one 
thing  they  are  striped  yellow  or  white  and  come  at  a 
time  of  the  year  which  makes  them  look  unnatural. 
It  is  not  the  maples  and  dogwoods  to  which  we  refer. 
Their  clothing  in  June  and  October  or  November  is 
always  charming,  and  so  are  the  silver  firs  and  the 
larches  in  early  summer: — but  what  is  meant,  for  in- 
stance, is  not  the  densiflora  pine  of  Japan,  grand  in  its 
panoply  of  green,  but  a  sickly  looking  and  slightly 
repulsive  form  of  the  same  species  which  when  striped 
and  variegated  with  gold  is  called  the  sun  ray  pine. 
White  may  be  of  the  highest  value  in  the  vegetation 
of  a  landscape,  as  witness  the  white  birches  finding  a 
home  in  small  numbers  disposed  against  a  background 
of  dark  evergreens,  and  yet  the  variegated  ash-leaved 
maple  (Negundo  acerifolium  variegatum)  is  of  a  sickly 
white  hue.  A  single  deciduous  tree  of  light  foliage 
standing  out  in  front  of  a  mass  of  evergreens  will  often 
look  well,  and  so  will  a  small  grove  of  them.  It  is  the 
evergreen  type  and  the  deciduous,  properly  related, 
and  used  over  and  over  again,  that  pleases — conflicting, 
triumphing,  and  then  trailing  off  or  losing  each  other, 
in  the  midst  of  the  blending  always  distinct  and  in 
some  way  each  asserting  its  own  individuality,  but 
never  carelessly  mingling  or  failing  to  persist  in  an  evi- 


plantations  219 

dently  preconceived,  though  ceaselessly  varying,  type 
or  method  of  growing. 

Besides  the  type  of  leafage,  form,  and  colour,  there  is 
to  be  considered  the  still  more  positive  character  of  the 
trunk,  branches,  and  twigs,  stark  and  bare  in  winter 
and  early  spring.  The  white  birch  already  noted  is 
one,  and  there  are  hosts  of  others.  They  stand  out, 
the  white  oak,  for  instance,  against  a  lurid  winter 
sunset,  or  they  glitter  after  an  ice  storm,  showing  their 
strange  convolution  of  branches,  like  the  oak  and  thorn 
described  in  another  chapter  by  Richard  Jefferies. 
There  is  also  the  fruit  of  the  thorns  and  wild  plums, 
chokeberries,  black  alders,  viburnums,  and  roses, 
hanging  in  some  cases  all  winter  on  their  naked  stems. 

All  these  separate  qualities  in  a  tree  or  shrub  need 
to  be  handled  in  a  sympathetic  way  in  the  composition 
of  a  year  round  landscape.  It  may  be  asked  how  this  is 
to  be  done.  Certainly  it  is  not  easy,  and  few  succeed 
in  doing  it.  It  can  only  be  done  by  study,  careful 
study,  of  the  nature  of  the  trees  and  shrubs  and  their 
behaviour  in  hundreds  of  instances  on  the  lawn  and  in 
the  field  and  woods,  and  some  help  can,  of  course,  be 
had  by  reference  to  books  and  prints  enabling  one  to 
pursue  the  trail  of  experience,  and  to  finally  attain  to 
something  really  worth  accomplishing.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  a  man,  a  city  clerk,  who  on  a  small  city  lot  grew 
such  flowers  that  finally  his  wonderful  horticultural 
skill  astonished  his  correspondents  the  world  over. 
He  did  not  accomplish  these  great  triumphs  by  means 
of  books,  but  books  helped  him. 


220  XanDscape  Hrcbttectute 

Perennial  plants  need  treatment  in  the  scheme  of 
the  landscape  gardener  in  the  same  general  way  as  trees 
and  shrubs,  both  deciduous  and  evergreen.  They 
play  a  subordinate  part,  though  a  no  less  attractive  one 
in  the  scheme.  They  should  stand  apart  in  colonies  or 
in  clusters  at  the  feet  of  the  shrubs  and  even  of  the 
trees;  they  should  carpet  the  glades  and  borders  of 
the  shrub  groups  with  trilliums  and  anemones,  and 
even  snowdrops  in  protected  nooks.  The  iris  and  the 
daffodil  and  the  water-lilies  all  have  their  places,  one 
in  the  moist  edge  of  the  stream,  the  other  a  little  higher 
up,  and  the  last  in  two  feet  of  water.  There  is  always 
a  way  to  associate  them  happily  with  their  larger  but 
not  more  beautiful  companions,  the  trees  and  shrubs. 
This  association  is  really  necessary  for  the  fullest  de- 
velopment of  the  beauty  of  the  perennial  wild  flower. 

Of  the  annuals  and  the  bedding  and  tropical  plants 
nearly  as  good  words  can  be  said,  for  each  in  its  way  is 
just  as  beautiful  and  valuable  as  the  other,  provided  it  is 
set  in  its  own  appointed  place,  as  designated  by  nature 
when  her  secrets  have  been  revealed  to  the  man  who 
makes  the  landscape.  In  the  chapter  on  Gardens  is  an 
illustration  showing  how  this  bedding  should  be  man- 
aged and  fitted  into  a  natural  scheme  of  this  kind  of 
planting,  and  so  we  leave  the  problem  of  bedding  for 
each  one  to  work  out  for  himself,  finding  it  on  the 
whole  one  of  the  most  difficult  and  perhaps  most 
fascinating  of  any  within  the  range  of  landscape  garden- 
ing. 

It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that  the  vegetation 


plantations  221 

of  a  new  place  should  be  conformed  to  already  existing 
growths  peculiar  to  the  region.  This  does  not  mean 
that  no  trees  save  those  that  naturally  grow  in  the 
neighbourhood  should  be  used.  There  are  many  other 
trees  and  shrubs  of  kindred  habit  and  hardiness  and 
appearance  but  foreign  in  origin  that  suit  a  particular 
territory:  in  other  words,  the  spirit  and  nature  of  the 
scenery  of  the  country  should  be  made  the  key  to 
the  harmony  of  the  plantations.  A  quotation  from 
the  writings  of  the  late  Charles  Eliot  pertaining  to  this 
subject  may  make  it  more  clear: 

"Within  the  area  of  the  United  States  we  have 
many  types  of  scenery  and  many  climates,  but  in 
designing  the  surroundings  of  dwellings,  in  working 
upon  the  landscape,  we  too  often  take  no  account  of 
these  facts.  On  the  rocky  coast  of  Maine  each  sum- 
mer sees  money  worse  than  wasted  in  endeavouring 
to  make  Newport  lawns  on  ground  which  naturally 
bears  countless  lichen -covered  rocks,  dwarf  pines 
and  spruces,  and  thickets  of  sweet-fern,  bayberry, 
and  wild  rose.  The  owners  of  this  particular  type 
of  country  spend  thousands  in  destroying  its  natural 
beauty  with  the  intention  of  attaining  to  a  foreign 
beauty,  which  in  point  of  fact  is  unattainable  in  any- 
thing like  perfection  by  reason  of  the  shallow  soil 
and  frequent  droughts.  I  know  too  many  of  these 
unhappy  ' lawns.*  Ledges  too  large  to  be  buried 
or  blasted  protrude  here  and  there.  They  are 
bare  and  bleached  now,  though  they  were  once  half 


222  SLanfcscape  Brcbitecture 

smothered  in  all  manner  of  mixed  shrubbery;  the 
grass  is  poor  and,  wherever  the  underlying  rock  is 
near  the  surface,  all  is  ugliness  where  once  was  only 
beauty.  Moreover,  if  the  lawn  were  perfect  and 
truly  English,  how  would  it  harmonize  with  the 
pitch  pine  and  scrub  birches  and  dwarf  junipers 
which  clothe  the  lands  around?  No,  the  English 
park  with  its  great  trees  and  velvet  turf  is  supremely 
beautiful  in  England  where  it  is  simply  the  natural 
scenery  perfected;  but  save  in  those  favoured  parts 
of  North  America  where  the  natural  conditions  ap- 
proximate those  of  the  old  country,  the  beauty  of 
it  cannot  be  had  and  should  not  be  attempted. 

"To  be  sure,  the  countries  of  the  continent  of 
Europe  all  have  their  so-called  English  parks,  but  the 
best  of  these  possess  little  or  none  of  the  real  English 
character  and  charm.  The  really  beautiful  parks  of 
Europe  are  those  which  have  a  character  of  their  own 
derived  from  their  own  conditions  of  climate  and 
scene.  The  parks  of  Paulovsk  near  St.  Petersburg, 
of  Muskau  in  Silesia,  of  the  villa  Thuret  on  the  cape 
of  Antibes  in  the  Mediterranean  are  none  of  them 
English,  except  as  England  was  the  mother  of  the 
natural  as  distinguished  from  the  architectural  in 
gardening.  The  Thuret  park,  if  I  may  cite  an  illus- 
tration of  my  meaning,  is  a  wonderland  of  crowded 
vegetation,  of  ways  deep,  shaded  by  rich  and  count- 
less evergreens,  of  steep  open  slopes  aglow  with 
bright  anemones.  Between  the  high  masses  of 
eucalyptus  and  acacia  are  glimpses  of  the  sea,  and 


plantations  223 

of  the  purple  foothills  and  the  gleaming  snow  peaks 
of  the  Maritime  Alps.  In  the  thickets  are  laurels, 
pittosporums,  gardenias,  etc.,  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth:  but  ilex,  phillyrea,  and  oleander  are  natives  of 
the  country,  and  myrtle  and  pistacia  are  the  com- 
mon shrubs  of  the  seashore,  so  that  the  foreigners  are 
only  additions  to  an  original  wealth  of  evergreens. 
The  garden  also  has  its  palms  of  many  species,  with 
cycads,  yuccas,  aloes,  and  the  like;  but  the  agaves 
are  common  hedge  plants  of  the  country,  and  strange 
euphorbias  grow  everywhere  about:  moreover,  the 
most  monstrous  of  these  creatures  are  given  a  space 
apart  in  the  main  garden,  so  that  they  may  not  dis- 
turb the  quiet  of  the  scene.  M.  Thuret  saved  the 
olives  and  the  ilexes  of  the  original  hillside.  He  did 
not  try  to  imitate  the  gardening  of  another  and  dif- 
ferent country  or  climate  but  simply  worked  to  en- 
hance the  beauty  natural  to  the  region  of  his  choice. 
"At  the  other  end  of  Europe  all  this  is  equally 
true  of  Paulovsk.  Here  at  the  edge  of  the  wet  and 
dismal  plain  on  which  St.  Petersburg  is  built,  is  a 
stretch  of  upland  almost  featureless,  but  which 
thanks  to  a  careful  helping  of  nature  is  now  the  most 
interesting  and  beautiful  bit  of  scenery  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  Tsar's  capital  can  show.  Here  is  no 
futile  striving  after  the  loveliness  of  England  or  any 
other  foreign  land ;  no  attempting  the  beauty  of  a 
mountain  country  or  a  rocky  country  or  a  warm 
country,  or  any  other  country  than  just  this  countiy 
that  lies  around  St.  Petersburg;  here  also  is  no 


224  SLanfcscape  Brcbitecture 

planting  of  incongruous  specimens  and  no  out-of- 
place  flower  bedding.  The  park  of  Muskau  teaches 
the  same  lesson,  and  under  conditions  closely  resem- 
bling those  of  our  Middle  States. 

"The  lawns  or  open  stretches  or  glades  of  turf  are 
just  as  carefully  considered,  it  will  be  noticed,  in  the 
semitropical  park  and  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the 
Antibes  as  in  England  or  Russia.  The  open  spaces 
with  bordering  foliage,  the  pastoral,  the  picturesque, 
have  the  same  justification  and  interest  given  them 
here  as  in  England  or  America.  "z 

The  philosophy  of  the  development  of  lawn  planting 
has  come  in  the  present  day  to  mean  far  more  than  it 
did  in  the  days  of  our  fathers,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
the  modern  period  appears  to  be  one  of  fads  and  faddists, 
of  Italian  and  old-fashioned  gardens,  of  blue  spruces 
and  yellow  Japan  cypresses.  In  the  eighteenth  century 
there  was  little  difference  between  the  landscape  archi- 
tect and  the  architect;  indeed  it  was  the  architect  and 
gardener  who  generally  designed  the  entire  place. 
The  name  landscape  architect  was  unknown. 

To-day  we  have  an  outdoor  art  of  many  cultures, 
notably  architectural  and  horticultural,  the  antago- 
nisms of  which  have  produced  a  play  of  forces  which  has 
tended  to  break  up  into  various  parts  the  formal  and 
rigid  landscape  rules  of  classic  and  mediaeval  times. 
Extravagances  of  man}7"  kinds  have  naturally  made 
themselves  evident,  yet  these  very  antagonisms  are 

1  Garden  and  Forest,  vol  i.,  April  4,  1888,  p.  64. 


plantations  225 

doing  good  work;  giving  renewed  and  vivid  life  to 
landscape  gardening  and  thrusting  its  roots  deeper  and 
deeper  towards  the  heart  of  nature.  Every  part  of 
outdoor  art  is  coming  to  have  its  place,  never  quite  its 
perfect  place,  but  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  highest 
standards.  Antagonisms  always  lead  to  continually 
renewed  activity  and  larger  fruitfulness.  Although 
antagonism  sometimes  means  conquest  and  even  defeat 
and  death  of  a  sort,  it  is  only  a  case  of  dying  to  live 
and  to  reach  heights  of  accomplishment  previously 
inconceivable, 
is 


XIII 

MAINTENANCE 

"  IT  is  quite  impossible  to  plant  a  large  extensive 

park  so  that  it  can  present  the  same  picture 

when  full  grown  as  it  did  at  the  beginning,  only 

on  an  altered  scale,  and  the  objects  in  it  are  for  ever 

after  in  the  right  relation  to  one  another, — since 

nature  cannot  be  calculated   so  accurately  and  it 

would  also  take  too  much  time. 

"Here  we  meet  with  the  drawback  of  our  art,  in  a 
certain  sense — though  it  may  also  be  regarded  as  an 
advantage.  For  it  is  impossible  to  create  a  finished, 
permanent  work  of  art  in  landscape  gardening,  such 
as  the  painter,  sculptor,  and  architect  are  able  to 
produce,  because  our  material  is  not  inanimate,  but 
living;  we  can  say  of  the  landscape  gardener's  art, 
as  of  all  nature's  own  pictures,  as  Fichte  said  of  the 
German  language,  "It  is  about  to  be,  but  never  is." 
That  is,  it  never  stands  still,  can  never  be  fixed  and 
left  to  itself.  Hence  a  skilful  guiding  hand  is  al- 
ways necessary  for  works  of  this  kind.  If  the  hand 
is  lacking  too  long  they  not  only  deteriorate,  they 
become  something  quite  different,  but  if  the  hand  is 

226 


/IDaintenance  227 

present,  beauties  are  continually  being  added  without 
losing  or  sacrificing  those  already  in  existence.  The 
chief  tool  which  we  use  for  construction,  i.e.,  our 
brush  and  chisel,  is  the  spade,  the  chief  tool  for 
maintenance  and  improvement  is  the  axe.  It  must 
not  rest  for  a  single  winter,  or  it  will  happen  to  us 
with  the  trees  as  it  did  with  the  water-carriers  in 
the  Tale  of  the  *  Wizard's  Apprentice* — they  will 
grow  over  our  heads."1 

It  is  more  than  a  case  of  overcrowding  a  design  which 
is  always  about  to  be  but  never  is,  in  Fichte's  phrase. 
It  is  also  in  other  words  always  becoming,  an  ebb  and 
flow,  an  unceasing  evolution  of  skilled  results,  contin- 
ually improvement,  or  retrogression,  deterioration,  and 
decay.  Nature  never  stands  still.  It  is  ever  increasing 
life  or  ever  increasing  decay,  oscillation  between  the 
two,  steadily  or  spasmodically,  as  the  one  gets  the 
upper  hand  of  the  other.  Consequently  the  maintenance 
and  care  must  be  unceasing  and  vigilant  and  based 
on  penetrating  study  of  new  conditions  as  they  arise. 
The  seasons,  cold,  heat,  drought,  insect  life,  fungi,  arid 
pests  of  every  sort,  all  need  to  be  watched  intelligently 
and  continually. 

It  is  a  common  saying  that  he,  or  she,  knows  how  to 
make  a  plant  grow.  It  thrives  under  his  hand.  A 
great  propagator  handles  plants  like  a  wizard.  There  is 
something,  people  think,  uncanny  in  such  successful 
operations.  But,  after  all,  it  is  chiefly  a  matter  of 

1  Prince  Puckler,  Hints  on  Landscape  Gardening. 


228  Xan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

maintenance.  Seed  is  sown,  a  cutting  or  a  small  plant 
is  set  out,  or  a  graft  is  set  in  a  stock;  one  must  know 
how  to  do  it ;  but  nine  tenths  of  the  success  attained 
comes  from  an  unceasing  conflict  with  adverse  condi- 
tions, eventually  finding  in  the  process  of  development 
the  brief  poise  and  equilibrium  of  a  mature  and  success- 
fully grown  shrub  or  tree.  Intimate,  loving  comprehen- 
sion of  the  nature  of  the  plant  can  alone  do  this.  It 
would  seem  that  love  is  actually  necessary  to  achieve 
the  greatest  results  even  in  growing  a  plant,  but  love 
without  knowledge  can  accomplish  little,  as  many 
an  amateur  horticulturist  has  learned  to  his  cost. 
Knowledge  generally  comes  from  long,  heart-breaking 
failure  and  diligent,  oft-repeated  effort.  The  man  who 
hires  such  work  done,  even  with  practically  unlimited 
means,  seldom  gets  as  good  results  as  some  enthusiastic 
amateur — crank  his  neighbours  probably  dub  him — who 
works  night  and  day  whenever  he  has  a  moment  to  spare 
to  give  to  his  plants.  And  there  is  incessant  work 
to  do.  There  is  planting  to  be  done  every  little  while 
throughout  the  seasons,  spring,  summer,  fall,  and  winter, 
especially  if  the  work  is  supplemented  by  a  greenhouse. 
There  is  always  pruning  of  some  sort,  pinching  if 
nothing  else,  and  warfare  always  on  insects,  weeds  to 
fight  and  watering  to  be  done,  and  cultivation,  spading, 
hoeing,  and  mulching  to  be  maintained. 

It  is  difficult  to  realize  what  such  maintenance  means 
when  it  is  faithfully  carried  out,  unless  one  has  been 
responsible  for  it  himself.  There  are  endless  ways  for 
maintenance  to  present  its  exacting  demands.  The 


dDaintenance  229 

lawn,  for  instance,  grows  bare  in  spots  and  needs  rich 
soil  spread  over  it  and  then  to  be  reseeded,  and,  if  the 
seed  does  not  take  on  account  of  dry  weather,  then 
seeding  again  during  a  favourable  spell.  Few  spots  on 
an  estate  or  in  a  park  need  more  intelligent  care  than  a 
lawn.  The  time  apparently  never  comes  when  it  can 
be  forgotten  any  more  than  anything  else  on  the  place, 
although  it  is  perhaps  more  neglected  than  almost 
anything.  To  mow  the  lawn  every  two  or  three  weeks 
is  often  all  that  is  done,  whereas  the  weeds  and  rain  will 
come  at  various  intervals  and  thus  make  extra  work. 
If  the  soil  has  been  properly  prepared  and  the  right 
kind  of  clean  seed  used  in  making  the  lawn,  there  should 
however  be  little  need  of  weeding.  Pruning  trees  and 
shrubs  may  be  done  during  nearly  every  month  in  the 
year,  either  in  the  old  wood  or  the  new,  and  there  is 
hardly  a  time  except  in  the  depth  of  winter  when  noxious 
insects  do  not  call  for  attention.  And  for  each  of  these 
various  operations,  special  knowledge  and  trained  skill 
are  needed.  It  is  results  obtained  in  this  diligent  way 
that  have  gained  the  unrivalled  horticultural  fame  of 
the  Chinese  and  Japanese.  Verily!  how  do  they  do  it? 
It  is  actually  uncanny,  and  yet  perhaps  after  all  it  is 
only  intelligent  maintenance,  the  skill  of  which,  coming 
down  through  generations,  is  a  possible  explanation  of  it. 
All  the  processes,  however,  all  the  knowledge  that 
goes  to  the  maintenance  of  a  park  or  estate  does  not 
fall  within  the  province  of  this  book  devoted  chiefly 
to  the  discussion  of  ideas  and  illustrations.  Reference 
is  made  in  the  bibliography  to  works  on  special  sub- 


230  &anoscape  Hrcbitccture 

jects  from  which  enough  can  be  readily  learned  to 
enable  any  one  to  intelligently  employ,  if  necessary, 
experts  of  sufficient  knowledge  and  skill  to  do  good 
work  in  the  various  departments  of  maintenance.  In 
time,  knowledge  will  doubtless  come  in  this  way  to  the 
owner  of  the  place,  and  he  will  find  the  occupation  of 
supervising  such  work  a  pleasure  and  even  a  delight. 
There  will  be  failures  and  many  accidents,  but  a  fair 
degree  of  success  will  make  the  memory  of  the  misfor- 
tunes soon  grow  dim  in  the  joy  of  horticultural  achieve- 
ment. 

The  chief  reason  that  this  supreme  excellence  of 
maintenance  is  seldom  attained  is  that  few  people 
acquire  enough  knowledge  to  know  fine  maintenance 
when  they  see  it.  Even  if  they  have  given  long  and 
what  they  consider  diligent  attention  to  their  place, 
grown  wonderful  roses,  or  hothouse  grapes,  by  means 
of  a  clever  gardener,  when  they  go  about  the  world 
their  kind  of  training  hardly  enables  them  to  realize  the 
quality  of  good  maintenance.  It  would  be  well  if 
more  people  prided  themselves  on  the  well-being  of  their 
whole  estate,  rather  than  some  single  feature  of  it,  a 
rose  garden,  a  greenhouse,  a  scheme  of  carpet  beds  or  of 
foliage  plants.  By  a  well  maintained  place  it  should 
not  be  understood,  however,  that  the  standard  of  high 
excellence  necessarily  implies  a  swept  and  garnished  and 
polished  place  such  as  one  sees  occasionally  in  Paris 
and  elsewhere.  Cleanliness  and  neatness  are  all  very 
well,  but  they  are  overdone  when  the  trees  and  shrubs 
are  trimmed  and  trained  until  they  hardly  look  like 


/iDaintenance  231 

trees  and  shrubs,  and  the  grass  is  mown  till  the  roots 
are  almost  bare;  where  the  presence  of  a  stray  leaf  is 
profanation,  and  sand  is  spread  over  the  walks  and 
drives  and  raked  and  swept  till  they  look  like  the  sanded 
floor  of  a  house.  The  thought  at  once  protrudes  itself 
how  rich  must  be  the  man  who  can  afford  to  do  all  this 
superfine  work. 

The  kind  of  maintenance  that  is  sane  and  sensible  is 
not  neatness  and  cleanliness  only,  but  high  development, 
not  abnormal  culture,  but  a  happy  condition  of  free, 
healthy  growth  with  the  accidents  and  defects  and 
diseases  always  incident  to  life  well  looked  after; 
otherwise,  nothing  extraordinary,  just  steady,  easy 
growth  that  a  sense  of  proper  re-adjustment  accom- 
plishes without  apparent  effort,  much  as  we  find  that 
the  appearance  of  a  well  dressed  man  or  woman  is  not 
noticed  but  unconsciously  enjoyed.  Such  a  place 
cannot  be  developed  under  the  eye  of  a  mere  specialist 
even  if  he  be  multiplied  many  times.  It  needs  the  eye 
of  a  master,  who  appreciates  its  possibilities  and  loves 
to  see  the  beauties  of  the  place  develop  in  an  all-round 
manner.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  how  artistic  de- 
signs conceived  in  the  early  construction  of  Central 
Park  have  been  realized  and  that  fifty  years  later  the 
original  intention  of  the  work  is  more  evident  by  means 
of  persistent  maintenance  than  when  it  was  first  con- 
structed. 

In  the  next  quotation  it  will  be  seen  how  a  conception 
of  natural  scenery,  a  landscape  poem,  was  carefully 
thought  out  in  the  beginning  and  constructed  at  great 


232  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitectute 

expense.  At  the  present  time,  on  a  spring  day  espe- 
cially, this  conception  is  one  of  the  most  inspiring  por- 
tions of  the  park  and  the  most  important  trees  are  still 
there.  The  words  of  the  landscape  architects  of  the 
park  are  as  follows: 

"As  an  important  suggestion  springs  from  this 
observation,  we  shall  be  pardoned  for  referring  to  a 
portion  of  Central  Park,  N.  Y.,  where  somewhat 
similar  conditions  formerly  existed  and  where  our 
views  have  been  adopted  and  realized.  Entering 
by  the  turn  to  the  right  at  the  Merchants'  Gate 
(59th  St.  &  C.  P.  W.)  in  a  few  minutes  the  visitor's 
eye  falls  upon  the  open  space  called  the  cricket  ground 
where  originally  was  a  small  swamp,  enlarged  at 
great  expense  in  the  construction  of  the  Park  in  order 
to  meet  a  similar  artistic  purpose  to  that  above 
explained,  by  the  removal  of  several  large  ledges  of 
rock,  and  now  occupied  by  an  unbroken  meadow 
which  extends  before  the  observer  to  the  extent  of  a 
thousand  feet.  Here  is  a  suggestion  of  freedom  and 
repose  which  must  in  itself  be  suggestive  and  tranquil- 
lizing to  the  visitor  coming  from  the  confinement  and 
bustle  of  crowded  streets,  but  this  is  not  all.  The 
observer  resting  for  a  moment  to  enjoy  the  scene, 
which  he  is  induced  to  do  by  the  arrangement  of  the 
planting,  cannot  but  hope  for  still  greater  space  than 
is  obvious  before  him  and  this  hope  is  encouraged 
first  by  the  fact  that  though  bodies  of  rock  and  foliage 
to  the  right  and  left  obstruct  his  direct  vision,  no 


/iDaintenance  233 

limit  is  seen  to  the  extension  of  the  meadow  in  a 
lateral  direction,  while  beyond  the  low  shrubs 
which  form  an  undefined  border  to  it  in  front  there 
are  no  trees  or  other  impediments  to  vision  for  a 
distance  of  half  a  mile  or  more  and  the  only  distant 
object  is  the  wooded  knoll  of  Vista  Rock  nearly  a 
mile  away,  upon  the  summit  of  which  it  is  an  impor- 
tant point  in  the  design  not  yet  realized,  to  erect  a 
slight  artificial  structure,  for  the  purpose  of  catching 
the  eye  and  the  better  holding  it  in  this  direction. 
The  imagination  of  the  visitor  is  thus  led  instinctively 
to  form  the  idea  that  a  broad  expanse  is  opening 
before  him,  and,  the  more  surely  to  accomplish  this, 
a  glimpse  of  the  slope  of  turf  beyond  the  border  of  the 
shrubs  in  the  middle  distance  has  been  secured.  As 
the  visitor  proceeds,  this  idea  is  strengthened  and  the 
hope  which  springs  from  it  in  a  considerable  degree 
satisfied,  if  not  actually  realized,  first  by  a  view  of 
those  parts  of  the  cricket  ground  which  lie  to  the  right 
and  left  of  his  previous  field  of  vision,  afterwards  by 
the  broad  expanse  of  turf  on  either  side  and  before 
him,  which  comes  into  view  as  he  emerges  from  the 
plantations  at  or  near  the  marble  archway. 

"The  carrying  out  of  this  most  important  purpose 
in  the  scenery  of  Central  Park,  owing  to  the  rocky  and 
heterogeneous  character  of  the  original  surface,  in- 
volved much  more  labour  and  a  larger  expenditure  than 
any  other  landscape  feature  of  that  undertaking."1 

1  Olmsted  and  Vaux,  Sixth  Annual  Report  to  Prospect  Park  Com- 
mission, 1866. 


234  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttectute 

In  considering  this  type  of  maintenance  which  aims 
at  perfection,  but  which  is  neither  superfine  or  affectedly 
natural,  we  should  always  remember  that  on  estates  and 
parks  pastoral  and  picturesque  are  the  terms  that  best 
express  what  we  should  seek  to  create  and  by  mainte- 
nance to  retain.  There  should  always  be  a  revealing 
day  by  day  of  a  new  scene,  ever  picturesque,  always 
renewing  itself  by  the  help  of  a  ceaseless  and  intelligent 
maintenance  which  retains  all  the  essential  elements 
that  make  landscape  gardening  grateful  and  sufficing. 

The  scene  in  Central  Park  in  the  Ramble  well  illus- 
trates this  idea  of  the  picturesque.  The  trees  are  large 
and  shadowy,  with  a  quaint  old  weeping  beech  in  their 
midst  and  a  peaceful  lawn  extending  away  from  them. 
The  grass  and  the  trees  show  evidence  of  good  mainte- 
nance and  the  rocks  and  masses  of  the  foliage  have  all 
the  qualities  of  the  picturesque. 

Isaac  Taylor  in  The  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry  has 
beautifully  and  truly  expressed  the  essential  qualities 
of  the  picturesque,  and  to  create  such  qualities  and  to 
retain  them  in  the  landscape  by  sympathetic  and  skil- 
ful maintenance  does  certainly  compass  the  highest 
reach  of  the  art  of  landscape  gardening.  He  says: 

"The  poetry  of  all  nations  has  conserved  more  or 
less  of  these  elements  of  the  primeval  repose;  and 
in  fact  we  find  them  conserved  also,  and  represented 
in  that  modern  feeling — the  love  of  and  the  taste  for 
the  picturesque.  Modern  undoubtedly  is  this  taste, 
which  has  not  developed  itself  otherwise  than  in 


o 


O       rt 

I     o 

1 


81 


/IDatntenance  235 

connexion  with  pictorial  art  in  the  Department  of 
Landscape.  What  is  the  picturesque?  A  question 
not  easily  answered;  yet  this  is  certain,  that  any 
attempt  that  may  be  made  to  find  an  answer  for  it 
must  bring  us  in  contact  with  the  very  elements  which 
already  have  been  named;  and  which  are  assembled 
in  the  idea  of  patriarchal  repose. 

"The  picturesque  is  not  simply  beauty  in  nature — 
it  is  not  luxuriance;  it  is  not  amplitude  and  vastness; 
it  is  not  copiousness;  it  is  not  the  fruit  of  man's 
interference:  but  rather  it  is  the  consequence  of  an 
indolent  acquiescence  on  his  part  in  things  as  they  are 
or  as  they  have  become ;  the  picturesque  belongs  to  the 
foreground  always,  or  to  the  stage  next  beyond  the 
foreground — never  does  it  take  its  range  beyond 
the  horizon.  The  picturesque  claims  as  its  own 
the  cherished  and  delicious  ideas  of  deep  seclusion, 
of  lengthened,  undisturbed  continuance,  and  of  the 
absence,  afar  off,  of  those  industrial  energies  which 
mark  their  presence  by  renovations,  by  removals, 
and  by  a  better  order  of  things,  and  by  signs  of  busy 
industry  and  of  thriftiness  and  order. 

''Within  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  picturesque, 
the  trees  must  be  such  as  have  outlived  the  winters  of 
centuries,  and  been  green  through  the  scorching  heats 
of  unrecorded  sultry  summers:  they  stoop  and  yet 
hold  up  giant  gnarled  branches,  leafy  at  the  extreme 
sprays;  and  their  twistings  are  such  that  they  look 
supernatural,  seen  against  an  autumnal  evening  sky. 
The  fences  that  skirt  the  homestead  of  the  pictur- 


236  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

esque  must  have  done  their  office  through  the  occu- 
pance  of  three  or  four  generations.  The  dwellings  of 
man  must  declare  themselves  such  as  have  sheltered 
the  hoary  quietude  of  sires  long  ago  gone  to  their 
graves.  Inasmuch  as  the  picturesque  abjures  change 
it  rejects  improvement,  it  abhors  the  square,  the  per- 
pendicular, the  horizontal,  and  it  likes  rather  all  forms 
that  now  are  other  than  at  first  they  were,  and  that 
lean  this  way  and  that  way  and  that  threaten  to  fall ; 
but  so  did  the  same  building  threaten  a  fall  a  century 
ago !  In  a  word,  the  picturesque  is  the  Conservation 
of  Landscape  Beauty.  It  is  where  the  picturesque 
holds  undisputed  sway  that  we  shall  find — or  shall 
expect  to  find — secure  and  placid  longevity — domes- 
tic sanctity  and  reverence;  together  with  a  piety 
that  holds  more  communion  with  the  past  than  with 
the  busy  and  philanthropic  present.  Give  me  only 
the  picturesque,  and  I  shall  be  well  content  never  to 
gaze  on  tropical  luxuriance,  or  upon  Alpine  sublimi- 
ties, nor  shall  ever  wish  to  travel  the  broad  walks 
that  surround  palaces:  shall  never  be  taxed  for  my 
admiration  of  those  things  which  wealth  and  pride 
have  superadded  to  nature. " 

The  strange  quality  of  charm  may  not  and  yet  is 
likely  to  go  with  picturesqueness  and  certainly  requires 
consideration  in  landscape  gardening.  But  it  may  be 
asked  what  is  charm?  Who  shall  say?  Arthur  C. 
Benson  describing  a  landscape  writes  that  charm 
"seems  to  arise  partly  out  of  a  subtle  orderliness  and  a 


/Maintenance  237 

simple  appropriateness  and  from  a  blending  of  delicate 
and  pathetic  elements  of  a  certain  unascertained  pro- 
portion. It  seems  to  touch  unknown  memories  into 
life  and  to  give  a  hint  of  the  workings  of  some  whimsical, 
half  tenderly  conceived  spirit  brooding  over  its  work, 
adding  a  touch  of  form  here,  and  a  dash  of  colour  there, 
and  pleased  to  see  when  all  is  done  that  it  is  good. " 

This  is  fine,  and  in  a  way  true,  but  after  all  it  is  only 
an  attempt  to  express  the  inexpressible.  The  magic 
and  mystery  may  be  there,  but  the  interpretation,  who 
will  give  it?  If  the  charm  is  there,  all  will  recognize 
it,  either  consciously  or  unconsciously,  in  any  bit  of 
landscape  as  well  as  elsewhere.  The  best  course  to 
pursue  is  to  keep  the  charm  as  far  as  possible  untouched 
and  to  set  anything  like  buildings  or  plants  outside  of 
its  sphere  of  influence.  Its  inherent  quality  is  strangely 
fragile.  On  the  other  hand,  if  one  were  so  fortunate 
as  to  give  something  of  this  subtile  charm  to  a  bit  of 
landscape  work,  one  should  never  allow  it  to  be  marred 
by  a  too  strict  adherence  to  academic  influences;  and 
moreover,  having  once  created  a  picture  possessing 
this  precious  quality,  it  behooves  the  artist  to  cherish 
and  maintain  his  work  in  the  excellent  way  that  has 
been  briefly,  and  all  too  unsatisfactorily,  suggested  in 
previous  parts  of  this  chapter. 


XIV 

GARDENS 

FROM  the  discussion  of  the  relative  nature  of  parks 
and  gardens  there  emerges  the  idea  that  build- 
ings and  gardens  and  parks  are  in  the  scheme  of 
landscape  gardening  only  parts  of  a  whole,  units  in  one 
organized  creation  made  up  of  natural  and  artificial 
features  developed  in  various  ways.  The  law  of  con- 
tradictions and  contrasts  may  be  made  to  act  here  as  it 
may  everywhere  else  in  landscape  gardening  to  produce 
the  most  happy  effects.  There  should  be  no  evident 
dividing  line  between  the  park  and  garden  where  one 
passes  into  the  other.  There  should  be,  however,  a 
distinct  contrast  established,  it  may  be  by  plantations  of 
trees  or  by  changing  frequently  and  radically  the  char- 
acter of  the  flowers  and  shrubs,  yet  the  division  line 
should  be  nowhere  formal  and  rigid.  For  this  reason 
hedges  as  usually  seen  do  not  make  an  agreeable  divid- 
ing line  between  the  garden  and  the  lawn  or  park. 
The  transition  is  too  sharp  and  sudden.  In  a  word  it  is 
too  unnatural,  and  fails  to  give  the  suggestion  of  blend- 
ing as  well  as  contrast  found  so  characteristic  of  the 
natural  scenes  of  field  and  forest. 

238 


(Barrens  239 

There  are  two  important  elements  of  design  found 
in  nearly  all  parks  and  gardens ;  one  of  these  is  architec- 
ture and  the  other  is  "free  nature  "  as  the  Germans  term 
it.  The  law  of  contradiction  or  contrast  necessarily 
comes  into  play  here  as  elsewhere,  and  on  the  way  it  is 
applied  and  the  way  the  spirit  of  one  idea  breaks  into 
and  overflows  into  the  other  depends  the  success  of  the 
scheme. 

This  scheme  divides  itself  naturally  into  simple  parts, 
contrasting  and  in  a  sense  contradicting  each  other  but 
capable  of  working  out  into  beautiful  pictures.  Open 
spaces  of  grass  and  bordering  plantations  with  paths 
and  roads  running  through  them  are  the  two  divisions 
the  relations  of  which  should  be  always  kept  in  mind, 
whether  the  object  be  to  design  a  park  or  a  garden,  which 
after  all  are  fundamentally  the  same,  only  variations 
and  combinations  of  the  divisions  already  indicated. 
It  is  a  question  of  the  rhythm  of  low  and  high,  of  broad 
or  narrow  masses  of  vegetation,  and  the  overflow  of 
one  arrangement  into  the  other.  For  instance,  single 
trees  and  small  masses  of  shrubs  may  be  used  effectively 
out  in  the  open  lawn  beyond  the  bordering  shrubbery, 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  the  grass  spaces  may  penetrate 
with  good  effect  far  into  the  shrubbery. 

Then,  moreover,  these  types  of  division  may  be 
applied  to  a  group  of  small  designs  and  a  number  of 
them  combined  into  the  main  design,  which,  subject 
to  the  same  law  and  presenting  the  same  variety  of 
types,  constitutes  the  treatment  of  the  estate,  gardens, 
lawns,  and  everything  within  its  bounds. 


240  3Lanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

Approaching  the  house  from  the  park  and  coming  to 
the  pleasure  ground  through  plantations  more  or  less 
indeterminate  in  height  and  breadth,  we  reach  a  sort 
of  middle  ground.  This  is  the  pleasure  ground,  and 
after  that  comes  the  garden,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  the 
house. 

"The  word  pleasure  ground  is  difficult  to  translate 
accurately  into  German,  and  I  therefore  consider  it 
better  to  retain  the  English  expression;  it  means  a 
terrain,  abutting  on  the  house  territory  and  decorated 
and  fenced  in,  of  far  larger  dimensions  than  gardens 
usually  are,  something  that  establishes  a  gradation 
between  the  park  and  the  true  garden,  which  should 
appear  to  be  really  a  part  of  the  house. " I 

Thomas  Whately  says  in  Observations  on  Modern 
Gardening: 

"If  regularity  is  not  entitled  to  a  preference  in 
the  environs  or  approach  to  a  house,  it  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  support  its  pretensions  to  a  place  in  any 
more  distant  parts  of  a  park  or  a  garden.  Formal 
slopes  of  ground  are  ugly,  right  or  circular  lines 
bounding  water  do  not  indeed  change  the  nature  of 
the  element;  it  still  retains  some  of  its  agreeable 
properties;  but  the  shape  given  to  it  is  disgusting. 
Regularity  in  plantations  is  less  offensive;  we  are 
habituated,  as  has  been  already  observed,  to  straight 
lines  of  trees,  in  cultivated  nature;  a  double  row 
1  Prince  Puckler,  Hints,  etc.,  on  Landscape  Gardening. 


':        : 


-W 

The  Arrangement  of  the  Beds  of  Foliage  Plants  Such  as  Cannas,  Coleuses,  and 
Geraniums  around  the  Arsenal,  Central  Park,  New  York  City. 


Another  View  of  the  Arrangement  of  the  Beds  of  Foliage  Plants  Such  as  Cannas, 
Colcuses,  and  Geraniums  around  the  Casino,  Central  Park,  New  York  City. 

From  Photographs   by  Messrs.  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.      (Reproduced  by  Permission.) 


Gardens  241 

meeting  at  the  top,  and  forming  a  complete  arched 
vista,  has  peculiar  effect;  other  regular  figures  have 
a  degree  of  beauty,  and  to  alter  or  disguise  such  a 
disposition,  without  destroying  a  number  of  fine 
trees,  which  cannot  well  be  spared,  may  sometimes  be 
difficult ;  but  it  hardly  ever  ought  to  be  chosen  in  the 
arrangement  of  a  young  plantation.  Regularity  was 
once  thought  essential  to  every  garden,  and  every 
approach,  and  it  yet  remains  in  many.  It  is  still  a 
character,  denoting  the  neighbourhood  of  a  gentle- 
man's habitation;  and  an  avenue  as  an  object  in 
the  view  gives  to  the  house,  otherwise  inconsiderable, 
the  air  of  a  mansion. " 

Here  in  the  pleasure  ground  the  sensation  produced 
by  the  landscape  is  of  more  formality,  elegance,  and 
finish,  in  other  words,  a  touch  of  the  spirit  of  the  archi- 
tecture should  appear,  retaining  still  a  predominance  of 
the  feeling  of  free  nature  belonging  to  the  park.  The 
shapes  of  the  flower  beds  should  be  more  irregular  as 
well  as  the  outlines  of  the  grass  spaces,  and  the  walks 
should  be  more  meandering  than  in  the  garden. 

In  the  garden  itself  the  architectural  lines,  ovals, 
straight  lines,  and  circular,  or  any  form  that  fits  the 
architecture  of  the  mansion  or  house  are  admissible. 
Prince  Piickler  says  in  this  connexion  in  his  Hints  on 
Landscape  Gardening: 

"I  might  repeat  here  with  some  variation  what  I 
have  said  before:  as  the  park  is  nature  idealized 
within  a  small  compass  so  the  garden  is  an  extended 

16 


242  Xaufcscape  Hrcbttecture 

dwelling.  Here  the  tastes  of  the  owner  may  have 
free  play,  following  his  imagination  and  indulging 
even  in  trivialities.  Everything  should  be  decorative , 
designed  for  comfort ;  and  as  ornamental  as  the  means 
permit.  Let  the  lawns  appear  as  a  velvet  carpet 
embroidered  with  flowers ;  gather  together  the  rarest 
and  the  most  beautiful  exotic  plants  (provided  that 
nature  or  art  will  enable  them  to  thrive);  polished 
benches,  refreshing  fountains,  the  cool  shades  of  dense 
avenues,  order  and  fancy,  in  short  everything  in  turn 
to  evoke  the  richest  and  most  varied  effect,  just  as 
one  furnishes  every  salon  in  the  interior  of  a  house  in 
a  different  style.  Thus  one  may  continue  the  suite 
of  rooms  on  a  greater  scale  under  the  open  sky,  whose 
blue  vault,  with  ever-renewed  cloud  canopy,  takes 
the  place  of  the  painted  ceiling,  and  in  which  sun  and 
moon  are  the  perpetual  illumination." 

But  everywhere  the  same  laws  of  design  should  con- 
trol— low,  broad,  or  narrow  plantations  in  contrast  or 
contradiction  with  high  ones.  In  the  beds  of  flowers 
the  heights  of  the  plants  should  bear  the  same  relation 
to  each  other  in  the  garden  as  grass  spaces  and  trees 
and  shrubs  in  the  park;  alternanthera  making,  as  it 
were,  the  grass  space,  and  then  coleus  and  canna,  for  the 
trees  and  shrubs.  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  the 
kind  of  plants  as  their  mode  of  treatment.  The  law, 
the  principle,  the  type  should  be  the  same  in  all  cases. 
The  unity  of  effect  is  just  as  important  as  the  variety. r 

1  See  flower  beds  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  designed  by  Calvert 
Vaux  on  this  principle.  See  illustrations  on  p.  240. 


(Barrens  243 

Variety,  moreover,  in  landscape  gardening  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  garden  may  assume  the  guise  of  mystery 
that  may  under  some  circumstances,  prove  magical  in 
effect.  One  of  the  supreme  feats  of  landscape  garden- 
ing is  to  suggest  surprise,  to  tempt  question  as  to  what 
is  behind  that  bush  or  tree,  or  round  the  next  turn  of  the 
road  or  path,  or  over  the  hill.  Wonderful  effects  of 
the  most  charming  natural  character  come  to  us  in  this 
way.  A  sweep  of  grass  creeps  around  yonder  point  of 
shrubbery  and  we  wonder  what  is  just  there  in  the 
recess. 

"The  willow  wren  sings,  but  his  voice  and  that  of 
the  wind  seem  to  give  emphasis  to  the  holy  and  medi- 
tative silence.  The  mystery  of  nature  and  life 
hover  about  the  columned  temple  of  the  forest.  The 
secret  is  always  behind  a  tree,  as  of  old  time  it  was 
always  behind  the  pillar  of  the  temple."1 

The  character  of  the  appearance  of  trees  and  shrubs 
is  so  varied  at  different  seasons  of  the  year,  in  sunshine 
and  shadow,  rain  and  clear  weather,  that  there  is 
hardly  any  limit  to  the  mysterious  and  magical  results 
that  can  be  accomplished.  Some  special  tree  or  shrub 
may  lend  itself  more  than  another  to  this  mystery  and 
magic,  and  the  art  of  the  landscape  gardener  may  do 
much,  but  in  the  final  result  there  should  appear  no 
sense  of  effort,  no  loss  of  easy  naturalness,  and  the  law 
of  contradiction  and  contrast  should  be  so  applied  as  to 

1  See  R.  Jefferies,  Field  and  Hedgerow,  p.  107. 


244  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

give  the  idea  of  continual  change  and  at  the  same  time 
of  adherence  to  a  generally  pervading  law  of  arrange- 
ment throughout  the  entire  landscape  scheme,  for  "an 
organic  unified  scheme  is  one  in  which  the  whole  is  in 
every  part. " 

Does  this  seem  hard  to  understand?  If  the  ac- 
companying plan  taken  from  Prince  Puckler's  book 
showing  how  a  group  of  shrubs  and  trees  should  be 
constituted  or  designed  is  studied  the  meaning  may 
be  clearer.  Certain  spaces  it  will  be  seen  are  occupied 
with  shrubs  and  trees  and  flowers  of  various  kinds ;  these 
kinds  are  made  to  produce  a  variation  of  high  and  low 
forms  and  masses  of  colour  related  to  each  other  accord- 
ing to  a  definite  scheme  which  also  has  its  own  relation 
as  a  mass  to  the  surrounding  grass  space;  the  grass  space 
has  again  its  own  special  relation  to  its  environment. 

This  type  of  treatment,  with  its  overlapping  and 
predominance  of  each  part  as  the  landscape  may 
demand,  should  repeat  itself  over  and  over  again 
throughout  the  space  in  the  garden  as  well  as  the  park. 
From  this  statement  it  is  evident  that  there  is  no  abso- 
lute garden,  nor  any  park  in  the  sense  of  wild  nature. 
Unfortunately  there  is,  however,  an  antagonism  of  two 
types  or  schools  of  landscape  art  existing,  one  archi- 
tectural and  one  that  may  be  termed  natural.  The 
architectural  school  held  sway  for  centuries  and  pro- 
duced a  one-sided  landscape  art,  but,  in  the  renewed 
artistic  life  of  the  Renaissance  and  the  followers  of 
Rousseau,  a  violent  love  of  pure  nature  developed  and 
produced  in  the  reaction  many  fanciful  and  ill-devised 


(Barrens  245 

conceptions.  One  school  reacted  on  the  other  and 
finally  out  of  the  two  has  developed  an  art  that  is  like 
neither  of  the  old  conceptions,  but  is  a  new  one  which 
uses  more  architectural  lines  near  the  architectural 
features  and  freer  nature  farther  off. 

"All  these  little  paths  were  confined  and  crossed 
by  a  limpid  and  clear  stream,  sometimes  circling  amid 
the  grass  and  flowers  in  almost  imperceptible  threads, 
now  in  larger  streams  flowing  over  a  pure  mosaic  of 
gravel  which  made  the  water  more  transparent.  I 
can  imagine,  said  I  unto  them,  a  rich  man  from  Paris 
or  London  master  of  this  house,  bringing  with  him 
an  expensive  architect  to  spoil  nature.  With  what 
disdain  would  he  enter  this  simple,  mean  place ! 
With  what  contempt  would  he  have  all  these  weeds 
uprooted!  What  fine  avenues  he  would  open  out! 
What  beautiful  valleys  he  would  have  pierced! 
What  fine  goose  feet,  what  fine  trees,  like  parasols 
and  fans!  What  fine  fretted  trellises!  What  beauti- 
fully drawn  yew  hedges,  finely  squared  and  rounded! 
What  fine  bowling  greens  of  fine  English  turf, 
rounded,  squared,  sloped,  and  ovalled!  What  fine 
yews  carved  into  dragons,  pagodas,  marmosets, 
every  kind  of  monster !  With  what  fine  bronze  vases, 
what  fine  stone  fruits  he  would  adorn  his  garden ! 

"The  grand  air  is  always  melancholy,  it  makes  us 
think  of  the  miseries  of  the  man  who  affects  it. 
Amid  his  parterres  and  grand  alleys  his  littleness  does 
not  increase. 


246  OLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

"What  then  will  the  man  of  taste  do,  who  lives  for 
the  sake  of  living,  who  can  enjoy  himself,  who  seeks 
real  and  simple  pleasures,  and  who  wishes  to  make 
himself  a  walk  within  reach  of  his  house?  He  will 
make  it  so  commodious  and  so  agreeable  that  he  can 
please  himself  there  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  more- 
over so  simple  and  natural  that  he  seems  to  have 
done  nothing.  He  will  combine  water,  verdure,  shade, 
and  coolness,  for  nature  too  combines  all  these 
things;  he  will  give  symmetry  to  nothing  that  is  the 
enemy  to  nature  and  variety;  and  all  the  alleys  of 
an  ordinary  garden  have  so  strong  a  resemblance, 
that  you  think  you  are  always  in  the  same  one;  he 
will  level  the  soil  to  walk  on  it  comfortably :  but  the 
two  sides  of  the  alley  will  not  be  always  exactly 
parallel ;  its  direction  will  not  be  always  on  a  straight 
line,  it  will  have  a  certain  vagueness,  like  the  gait  of  a 
leisurely  man  who  sways  as  he  walks. " z 

The  entire  scheme,  however,  as  indicated  above,  is 
coming  more  and  more  (as  in  Central  Park,  New  York, 
and  in  Germany  and  England  and  France)  under  the 
control  throughout  of  unified  laws  of  design.  This  has 
given  and  is  giving  increasing  value  for  both  park  and 
garden  in  the  minds  of  many. 

People  seeking  to  improve  their  places  themselves 
realize  in  many  cases  hardly  anything  of  this  harmoniz- 
ing of  schools,  but  they  will  find  the  best  development 
will  be  on  these  lines,  and  landscape  architects  and 

1  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  Julie,  or  the  Nouvelle  Helo'ise. 


Gardens  247 

architects  do,  in  many  cases,  fully  realize  it,  for  already 
the  garden  and  the  estate  or  park  are  frequently  thus 
made  to  correlate  themselves.  There  has  been  conflict, 
and  there  is  still  some  between  the  "architectural"  and 
" natural "  schools,  but  "discord  is  the  proof  of  vitality  " 
for  it  is  here  as  elsewhere,  again  and  again,  the  conflict 
of  elements  which  in  spite  of  their  apparently  absolute 
antagonism  are  really  each  contained  in  the  design  of  a 
harmonious  landscape  scheme,  and  which  will  therefore 
eventually  be  reconciled  by  further  development.  The 
making  of  a  home  suggests  naturally  at  first  the  build- 
ing of  a  house  and  so  the  architect  and  his  school  or 
party  take  control,  but  "A  party  first  truly  shows  itself 
to  have  won  the  victory  when  it  breaks  up  into  two 
parties:  for  so  it  proves  that  it  contains  in  itself  the 
principle  with  which  it  first  had  to  conflict,  and  thus  it 
had  to  get  beyond  the  one-sidedness  which  was  inci- 
dental to  its  earliest  expression." 

Here  are  several  examples  of  how  the  struggle  be- 
tween the  architectural  and  the  natural  progresses  and 
takes  shape.  Smollett  gives  the  following  account  of 
a  classical  architectural  garden  Villa  Pinciana  at  Rome ; 
although  the  writer  is  doubtless  a  prejudiced  observer, 
he  was  a  keen  and,  on  the  whole,  veracious  one  and  his 
travels  in  1765  are  of  great  interest  and  value. 

"He  who  loves  the  beauties  of  simple  nature  and 
the  charm  of  neatness,  will  look  for  them  in  vain 
amidst  the  groves  of  Italy.  In  the  garden  of  Villa 
Pinciana,  there  is  a  plantation  of  four  hundred  pines, 


248  %ant>scape  Hrcbitectute 

which  the  Italians  view  with  rapture  and  admiration : 
there  is  likewise  a  long  walk  of  trees  extending  from 
the  garden  gate  to  the  palace;  and  plenty  of  shade 
with  alleys  and  hedges  in  different  parts  of  the 
ground,  but  the  groves  are  neglected;  the  walks  are 
laid  with  nothing  but  common  mould  or  sand,  black 
and  dusty;  the  hedges  are  tall,  thin,  and  shabby;  the 
trees  stunted,  the  open  ground,  brown  and  parched, 
has  scarce  any  appearance  of  verdure.  The  flat, 
regular  alleys  of  evergreens  are  cut  into  fantastic 
figures ;  the  flower  gardens  embellished  with  thin  cy- 
phers and  flourished  figures  in  box,  while  the  flowers 
grow  in  rows  of  earthen  pots,  and  the  ground  appears 
as  dusty  as  if  it  was  covered  with  the  cinders  of  a 
blacksmith's  forge.  The  water,  of  which  there  is  a 
great  plenty,  instead  of  being  collected  in  large  pieces, 
or  conveyed  in  little  rivulets  and  streams  to  refresh 
the  thirsty  soil,  or  managed  so  as  to  form  agreeable 
cascades,  is  squirted  from  fountains  in  different  parts 
of  the  garden  through  tubes  little  bigger  than  common 
glyster  pipes.  It  must  be  owned  indeed  that  the 
fountains  have  their  merit  in  the  way  of  sculpture 
and  architecture,  that  here  is  a  great  number  of 
statues  that  merit  attention;  but  they  serve  only  to 
encumber  the  ground,  and  destroy  that  effect  of 
rural  simplicity  which  our  gardens  are  designed  to 
produce.  In  a  word,  here  we  have  a  variety  of  walks 
and  groves  and  fountains,  a  wood  of  four  hundred 
pines,  a  paddock  with  a  few  meagre  deer,  a  flower 
garden,  an  aviary,  a  grotto,  and  a  fish  pond,  and  in 


Oarbens  249 

spite  of  all  these  particulars  it  is  in  my  opinion  a 
very  contemptible  garden  when  compared  to  that  of 
Stowe  in  Buckinghamshire,  or  even  to  those  of  Ken- 
sington and  Richmond." 

And  yet  Smollett  says  that  of  the  gardens  he  has  seen 
in  Italy  that  of  the  Villa  Pinciana  is  the  most  remark- 
able and  the  most  extensive,  including  a  space  of  three 
miles  in  circuit,  hard  by  the  walls  of  Rome,  containing 
a  variety  of  situations  which  favour  all  the  natural  em- 
bellishments one  would  expect  to  meet  in  a  garden,  and 
exhibit  a  diversity  of  noble  views  of  the  city  and  adjacent 
country. 

Vernon  Lee  thus  characterizes  Italian  gardens: 

"For  your  new  gardens,  your  real  Italian  Gardens 
bring  in  a  new  element — that  of  perspective,  archi- 
tecture, decoration,  the  trees  used  as  building  ma- 
terial, the  lie  of  the  land  as  theatre  arrangements, 
the  water  as  the  most  docile  and  multiform  stage 
property. " 

Walter  Savage  Landor  writes  thus  on  gardens: 

"We  Englishmen  talk  of  planting  a  garden,  the 
modern  Italians  and  ancient  Romans  talk  of  building 
one." 

Thus  you  have  the  two  schools  contrasted  and  a  con- 
tradiction established,  the  Latin  or  Southern  against 
the  North  man,  and  yet  out  of  this  is  emerging  in  all 
countries  the  natural  parks  including  the  garden  which 


250  SLan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

is  co-ordinated  with  the  different  parts  of  the  place 
and  especially  the  house. 

In  order  to  realize  how  fifty  years  later  the  Italian 
villas  assumed  a  different  aspect  from  that  noted  by 
Smollett,  read  what  William  Beckford,  the  creator  of 
Font  Hill  Abbey  and  therefore  a  competent  observer, 
writes : 

"I  dined  in  peace  and  solitude  and  repaired  as 
evening  drew  on  to  the  thickets  of  Boboli.  What 
a  serene  sky!  What  mellowness  in  the  tints  of  the 
mountains !  A  purple  haze  concealed  the  bases,  while 
their  summits  were  invested  with  saffron  light,  dis- 
covering every  white  cot  and  every  copse  that  clothed 
their  declivities.  The  prospect  widened  as  I  as- 
cended the  terraces  of  the  garden.  After  traversing 
many  long  dusky  alleys  I  reached  the  opening  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill  and  seating  myself  under  the  statue 
of  Ceres,  took  a  sketch  of  the  huge  mountainous 
cupola  of  the  Duomo,  the  adjoining  lovely  tower,  and 
one  more  massive  in  its  neighbourhood,  built  not 
improbably  in  the  style  of  ancient  Etruria.  Beyond 
this  historic  group  of  buildings  a  plain  stretches  itself 
far  and  wide  most  richly  studded  with  villas  and 
gardens  and  groves  of  pine  and  olive,  quite  to  the  feet 
of  the  mountains. 

"Having  marked  the  sun's  going  down  and  all  the 
soothing  effects  cast  by  the  declining  rays  on  every 
object,  I  went  through  a  plat  of  vines  to  a  favourite 
haunt  of  mine:  a  little  garden  of  the  most  fragrant 


.S    6 

>   .2 

.i 

II 


-  .Q 

S  "2 

I  5 

0}  ^ 

o  9 


Gatbens  251 

roses  with  a  spring  under  a  rustic  arch  of  grotto  work 
fringed  with  ivy.  Thousands  of  fish  inhabit  here  of 
that  beautiful  glittering  species  which  comes  from 
China.  This  golden  nation  were  leaping  after  insects 
as  I  stood  gazing  upon  the  deep  clear  water,  listening 
to  the  drops  that  trickle  from  the  cove.  Opposite  to 
which  at  the  end  of  a  green  alley  you  discover  an  oval 
basin  and  in  the  midst  of  it  an  antique  statue  full 
of  that  graceful  languor  so  peculiarly  Grecian. 
Whilst  I  was  musing  on  the  margin  of  the  spring 
(for  I  returned  to  it  after  casting  a  look  upon  the 
sculpture)  the  moon  rose  above  the  tufted  foliage  of 
the  terraces,  which  I  descended  by  several  flights 
of  steps  with  marble  balustrades  crowned  by  vases 
of  aloes.  .  .  . 

"Then  I  plunged  into  a  winding  path  which  led  me 
by  a  series  of  steep  ascents  to  a  green  platform  over- 
looking the  whole  extent  of  a  wood,  with  Florence 
deep  beneath,  and  the  tops  of  the  hills  which  encircle 
it  jagged  with  pines;  here  and  there  a  convent  with- 
ering in  the  sun.  The  scene  extends  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach. 

"Descending  alley  after  alley,  and  bank  after  bank, 
I  came  to  the  orangery  in  front  of  the  palace,  dis- 
posed in  a  grand  amphitheatre  with  marble  niches 
relieved  by  dark  foliage,  out  of  which  sprung  cedars 
and  tall  aerial  cypresses.  This  spot  brought  the 
scenery  of  an  antique  Roman  garden  so  vividly  into 
my  mind,  that,  lost  in  a  train  of  recollections  this 
idea  excited,  I  expected  every  instant  to  be  called  to 


252  3Lanbscape  Brcbitecture 

the  table  of  Lucullus  hard  by  in  one  of  the  porticoes 
and  to  stretch  myself  on  his  purple  triclinium,  but 
waiting  in  vain  for  a  summons  till  on  the  approach 
of  night  I  returned  delighted  with  a  ramble  that  had 
led  my  imagination  so  far  into  antiquity." 

Arthur  Symons  in  his  book  on  "Cities"  has  given  an 
excellent  description  of  the  Italian  garden  at  its  best. 
Considering  the  Villa  Mattel  he  writes : 

"Around  are  broken  walls  rising  brown  and  jagged 
against  the  sky,  the  walls  of  the  baths  of  Caracalla; 
a  desolate  strip  of  country  on  the  edge  of  the  city; 
and  beyond,  seen  from  the  terraces  lined  with  the 
dead  bluish  green  of  cactus,  the  Alban  Hills.  All 
the  garden  walks,  where  not  even  the  cypresses  are 
funereal  nor  the  sunlight  itself  gay,  breathe  an  ex- 
quisite melancholy,  the  most  delicate  and  seductive 
breath  of  decay.  There  are  wandering  terraces, 
slim  vistas,  an  entanglement  of  green  and  wayward 
life,  winding  in  and  out  of  brown  defaced  walls 
fringed  with  ivy,  and  about  white  and  broken  statues 
shining  from  under  this  green  coat  of  leaves;  every- 
where surprising  turns  of  ways  among  the  trees  curv- 
ing out  here  and  there,  as  if  instinctively,  into  a  circle 
about  a  fountain  where  broad  leaves  shadow  the 
heads  of  gods  or  emperors  in  stone.  And  everywhere 
there  is  the  cool  sound  of  water  which  rises  in  the 
fountains,  and  drips  under  water  plants  in  a  grotto; 
and  everywhere  as  one  follows  the  winding  paths,  a 
white  hand  stretches  out  from  among  the  darkness  of 


253 

ivy,  at  some  turn  of  the  way,  and  one  seems  to  catch 
the  escaping  flutter  of  white  drapery  among  the 
leaves.  You  will  sometimes  see  the  shy  figure  of  an 
old  Cardinal  taking  his  walk  there ;  and  if  you  follow 
him,  you  will  come  upon  a  broad  alley  of  ilexes, 
lined  with  broken  statues,  broken  friezes,  and  arched 
over  by  fantastically  twisted  branches,  brown  and 
interlaced,  on  which  thfe  blue-grey  leaves  hang 
delicately  like  lace;  an  alley  leading  to  what  must 
once  have  been  a  sarcophagus,  covered  on  the  side 
by  which  you  approach  it,  with  white  carved  figures. 
On  the  other  side  you  find  yourself  in  a  little  trellised 
circle  from  which,  as  through  a  window  suddenly 
opened,  you  see  the  Alban  Hills;  there  is  a  rustic 
wooden  seat  against  the  stone  of  the  sarcophagus,  on 
which,  roughly  carved,  two  lions  meet  and  seem  to 
shake  hands ;  and  above  is  written :  '  Qui  San  Filippo 
Neri  discorreva  coi  suoi  discepoli  delli  cose  di  Dio.'  * 

For  a  modern  rhapsody  or  ideal  picture  of  Italian 
gardens,  a  poetical  dream,  a  quotation  is  given  from 
Mrs.  (E.  V.  B.)  Boyle: 

"A  garden,  the  word  is  indeed  a  picture,  and  what 
a  picture  it  reveals!  All  through  the  days  of  child- 
hood the  garden  is  our  fairy  ground  of  sweet  enchant- 
ment and  innocent  wonder.  They  are  all  beautiful, 
these  Gardens  of  Poetry!  and  through  the  midst  of 
them  flows  the  broad  stream  of  Memory,  isled  with 
fair  lilied  lawns,  fringed  with  willowy  forests  of 
whispering  reeds.  And  not  less  beautiful  than  these 


254  OLanbscape  Hrcbitectute 

ideal  shades  are  the  gardens  which  live  unchanging  in 
many  a  painted  picture  within  the  heart.  Real  and 
not  less  ideal,  is  the  remembrance  of  the  gardens  we 
have  seen ;  seen  once,  it  may  be,  and  never  since  for- 
gotten, lovely  as  truth,  crystal  clear  as  a  poet's 
thought  are  the  earthly  Edens  our  eyes  have  beheld 
in  the  years  that  are  past.  How  can  we  forget  the 
gardens  of  queenly  Genoa  in  the  days  before  she  was 
discrowned  of  Florence,  of  Rome  and  Albano  and 
Tivoli? 

"In  all  Italy,  the  land  of  flowers,  the  garden  of  the 
world,  there  are  no  gardens  more  stately,  nor  any 
nobler  cypress  trees  than  at  Villa  d'Este  of  Tivoli. 
In  the  spring  by  the  straight  smooth  ways  under  the 
ilexes  and  cypresses  all  sunshine,  the  golden  day  is 
made  rosy  wherever  anon  the  red  Judas  trees  shower 
down  their  bloom.  Marble  stairs  lead  up  through 
terraced  heights  to  paved  walks  under  Palazzo  walls. 
There,  the  air  is  faint  with  rich  fragrance  of  the 
orange  trees.  The  lofty  spires  of  ancient  cypresses 
reach  up  above  the  topmost  terrace ;  far  below  in  the 
garden  between  their  dark  ranks  sparkle  the  upspring- 
ing  fountains.  Beyond,  above  the  tallest  cypresses 
rise  brown  crumbling  walls  of  the  old  town,  piled  up 
with  open  loggia  and  arched  gates  and  overshadowing 
roofs;  and  high  over  these,  great  barren  hills  crowned 
with  ruined  fortresses  and  shattered  keeps.  To  the 
west  rolls  out  the  ocean  of  the  wide  Campagna, 
undulating  far  away  where  Rome  is  lost  in  the  sunset. 
Dream  on !  until  you  sigh  with  the  wondrous  sweetness 


o>    ;n 
—    PQ 


I 


?! 

31 


(Barrens  255 

of  Rome  herself  in  the  wild  garden  of  the  Vatican, 
where  in  April  days  ten  thousand  odorous  cyclamen 
flowers  flush  with  crimson  all  the  moss  beneath  the 
trees.  Dream  on :  till  you  see  once  more  the  swaying 
of  the  tall  vines  and  bathe  your  steps  with  flowery 
grass  in  the  green  Pamphili'  Doria,  and  watch  the 
mystic  fountains,  most  like  the  form  of  an  inconstant 
spirit,  like  a  blue-robed  Undine,  uncertain  if  to 
leave  her  source,  trembling  betwixt  desire  and 
fear." 

Pity  it  is  that  so  many  abortive  attempts  are  made 
to  restore  these  old  gardens  in  the  modern  style. 
Ribbon  beds  and  gay  parterres  of  showy  flowers  can 
be  rarely  made  to  fit  an  Italian  garden.  The  real 
Italian  garden  is  simple  and  dignified  and  depends  for 
its  charm  on  a  combination  of  trees  and  architecture 
that  is  sui  generis.  Far  better  would  it  be  if  the  modern 
owner  of  an  old  Italian  garden  could  be  induced  to 
restore  and  retain  the  old  conditions  as  far  as  possible, 
and  to  add,  if  addition  is  felt  to  be  necessary,  some  more 
Italian  cypresses,  a  magnolia  or  two,  and  other  trees 
that  naturally  consort  with  the  surroundings;  a  little 
more  grass  would  help,  and  grass  could  certainly  be 
secured  by  the  use  of  water;  it  would  be  no  more  difficult 
than  growing  coleus  and  geranium  parterres.  Imita- 
tion in  these  old  Italian  gardens  is  to  be  avoided. 
You  can  never  give  the  new  garden  the  old  spirit,  but 
you  can  design  the  new  garden  in  a  similar  spirit,  as 
may  be  seen  by  referring  to  the  illustration  of  Mr.  Beale's 


256  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

garden  (see  page ).     This  will  secure  not  the  Italian 

garden  of  Italy,  but  the  home  garden  of  America. 

Here  is  another  intimate  and  suggestive  description 
of  a  garden  which  might  be  applied  to  the  best  gardens 
the  world  over: 

"Forgotten  beside  some  rosy  palace  by  the  Adri- 
atic, its  fountain  overrun  with  maidenhair,  its  gold- 
fish twinkling  in  the  marble  font,  and  grass  growing 
gaily  and  wildly  where  it  will,  the  garden  that  once 
was  trimmest  has  a  delightful  spirit  that  it  could 
not  have  without  precisely  that  past  of  artifice  and 
ceremony.  No  prosperity  except  that  of  summer, 
no  order  that  is  not  sweetly  made  light  of  while  it 
is  carelessly  fulfilled,  and  all  access  open  by  way  of 
the  sunny  air,  so  that  no  seeds  are  denied  an  anchor- 
age in  this  port  and  harbourage  of  the  winds.  A  trim 
garden  that  is  no  longer  trim  is  full  of  frolic.  A  trim 
garden  that  is  still  trim  has  a  kind  of  comeliness  as  an 
accessory  of  architecture.  It  is  at  any  rate  a  garden 
and  not  a  landscape. 

"How  has  the  world  taken  so  much  trouble  to  make 
less  lovely  things  out  of  those  fine  materials — the 
blossoming  earth  and  the  fostering  sky?  Pity  is  it 
that  the  word  garden  should  be  so  vulgarized  by 
worldly  gardens.  It  is  an  early  word  for  all  men, 
one  of  the  earliest  of  words.  It  is  an  Orient  word, 
fresh  and  perpetual  from  childhood  and  the  Divine 
East."1 

1  Alice  Meynell,  1900. 


(Barrens  257 

Fountains  are  a  special  and  most  important  feature 
of  a  garden  and  here  is  a  suggestion  made  by  Henry  A. 
Bright  in  The  English  Flower  Garden: 

"One  of  the  greatest  ornaments  in  a  garden  is  a 
fountain,  but  many  fountains  are  curiously  ineffective. 
A  fountain  is  most  effective  when  it  leaps  high  in  the 
air,  and  you  can  see  it  against  a  background  of  green 
foliage.  To  place  a  fountain  among  new  flower  beds, 
and  then  to  substitute  small  fancy  jets  that  take  the 
shape  of  a  cup,  or  trickle  over  in  a  basin  of  goldfish, 
or  toy  with  a  gilded  ball,  is  to  do  all  that  is  possible 
to  degrade  it.  The  real  charm  of  a  fountain  is  when 
you  come  upon  it  in  some  grassy  glade  of  the  'pleas- 
aunce'  when  it  seems  as  though  it  sought,  in  the 
strong  rush  of  its  waters,  to  vie  with  the  tall  boles 
of  the  forest  trees  that  surround  it." 

Such  was  the  fountain  of  Leigh  Hunt's  story  of 
Rimini  which  shot  up  beneath  the  shade  of  darksome 
pines. 

And  twixt  their  shafts  you  saw  the  water  bright 
Which  through  the  tops  glimmered  with  showering  light. 

This  is  very  pertinent  to  the  subject,  as  it  is  sel- 
dom that  a  fountain  is  met  which  is  both  designed  and 
located  properly,  particularly  when  used  in  the  garden. 

But  turning  from  the  spell  of  these  Italian  gardens 

and  their  unquestionable  beauty  and  charm  we  must 

not  forget  to  recall  the  natural  effects  we  have  been 

considering,  and  allow  ourselves  to  yield  once  more  to 

17 


258  3Lanb5cape  Hrcbttecture 

the  call  of  the  flowers  in  their  homes  in  the  nooks  of  the 
bushes  and  groves  of  lawns  and  forests,  where 

Thick  on  the  woodland  floor 
Gay  company  shall  be 
Primrose  and  hyacinth 
And  frail  anemone, 
Perennial  strawberry  bloom, 
Wood  sorrel's  pencilled  veil, 
Dishevelled  willowweed, 
And  orchids,  purple  and  pale.1 

Richard  Jefferies,  although  not  a  landscape  gardener, 
observed  and  appreciated  and  interpreted  nature  in  a 
wonderful  way.  Here  is  his  criticism  of  gardening  and 
free  landscape : 

"Happily  this  park  escaped  and  it  is  beautiful. 
Our  English  landscape  wants  no  gardening,  it  cannot 
be  gardened.  The  least  interference  kills  it.  The 
beauty  of  English  woodland  and  country  is  its  detail. 
There  is  nothing  empty  and  unclothed.  If  the  clods 
are  left  a  little  while  undisturbed  in  the  field,  weeds 
spring  and  wild  flowers  bloom  upon  them.  Is  the 
hedge  cut  and  trimmed,  lo,  the  blue  flower,  the  more 
and  a  yet  fresher  green  buds  forth  on  the  twigs. 
Never  was  there  a  garden  like  the  meadow;  there 
is  not  an  inch  of  the  meadow  in  early  summer  without 
a  flower.  Old  walls  as  we  saw  just  now  are  not  left 
without  a  fringe;  on  the  top  of  the  hardest  brick  wall, 
on  the  sapless  tiles,  on  slates  stonecrop  takes  hold 
and  becomes  a  cushion  of  yellow  bloom.  Nature  is 
1  Robert  Bridges,  The  Idle  Flowers,  1913,  p.  352. 


(Barrens  259 

a  miniature  painter  and  handles  a  delicate  brush,  the 
tip  of  which  touches  the  tiniest  spot  and  leaves 
something  living.  The  park  has  indeed  its  larger 
lines,  its  open  broad  sweep  and  gradual  slope  to 
which  the  eye  accustomed  to  small  enclosures  re- 
quires time  to  adjust  itself.  These  left  to  themselves 
are  beautiful,  they  are  the  surface  of  the  earth  which 
is  always  true  to  itself  and  needs  no  banks  for  artificial 
hollows.  The  earth  is  right  and  the  tree  is  right, 
then  either  and  all  is  wrong.  The  deer  will  not  fit 
into  them  then. " 

Washington  Irving,  although  not  known  as  a  horti- 
culturist or  landscape  gardener,  nevertheless  showed 
fine  discrimination  in  the  method  he  chose  for  the 
improvements  of  the  lawns  around  his  home  near 
Tarry  town.  This  is  what  he  says  about  English 
landscape  gardening  in  his  Sketch  Book : 

"  The  taste  of  the  English  in  the  cultivation  of  land, 
and  in  what  is  called  landscape  gardening  is  un- 
rivalled. They  have  studied  nature  intently  and 
discover  an  exquisite  sense  of  her  beautiful  forms  and 
harmonious  combinations.  Those  charms  which  in 
other  countries  she  lavishes  in  wild  solitudes,  are 
here  assembled  around  the  haunts  of  domestic  life. 
They  seem  to  have  caught  her  coy  and  furtive  graces, 
and  spread  them,  like  witchery,  about  their  rural 
abodes.  Nothing  can  be  more  imposing  than  the 
magnificence  of  English  park  scenery.  Vast  lawns 


260  3Lanb5cape  Hrcbitecture 

extend  like  sheets  of  vivid  green,  with  here  and  there 
clumps  of  gigantic  trees,  heaping  up  rich  piles  of 
foliage;  the  solemn  pomp  of  groves  and  woodland 
glades  with  the  deer  trooping  in  silent  herds  across 
them;  the  hare  bounding  away  to  the  covert;  or 
the  pheasant  suddenly  bursting  upon  the  wing;  the 
brook  taught  to  wind  in  natural  meanderings  or 
expand  into  a  glassy  lake;  the  sequestered  pool 
reflecting  the  quivering  trees,  with  the  yellow  leaf 
sleeping  upon  its  bosom,  and  the  trout  roaming 
fearlessly  about  its  limpid  waters.  These  are  a  few 
of  the  features  of  park  scenery,  but  what  most  de- 
lights me  is  the  creative  talent  with  which  the  English 
decorate  the  unostentatious  abodes  of  middle  life. 
The  rudest  habitation,  the  most  unpromising  and 
scanty  portion  of  land,  in  the  hands  of  an  English- 
man of  taste  becomes  a  little  paradise.  With  nicely 
discriminating  eye,  he  seizes  at  once  upon  its  capa- 
bilities, and  pictures  in  his  mind  the  future  landscape. 
The  sterile  spot  grows  into  loveliness  under  his  hand ; 
and  yet  the  operations  of  art  which  produce  the 
effect  are  scarcely  to  be  perceived.  The  cherishing 
and  training  of  some  trees;  the  cautious  pruning  of 
others;  the  nice  distribution  of  flowers  and  plants  of 
tender  and  graceful  foliage;  the  introduction  of  a 
green  slope  of  velvet  turf;  the  partial  opening  to  a 
peep  of  blue  distance,  or  a  silver  gleam  of  water;  all 
these  are  managed  with  a  delicate  tact,  a  pervading, 
yet  quiet  assiduity,  like  the  magic  touchings  with 
which  a  painter  finishes  up  a  favourite  picture. " 


Gardens  261 

Prince  Puckler's  description  of  the  garden  at  Windsor 
and  the  landscape  beyond  forms  a  good  illustration  of 
the  proper  relation  of  these  features: 

"The  garden  lay  before  us,  a  perfect  paradise, 
lighted  by  the  glow  of  the  evening  sun.  Along  the 
whole  house,  now  projecting,  now  receding,  were 
verandas  of  various  forms  and  clothed  with  creeping 
plants.  These  formed  a  border  to  the  gayest  flower 
garden  covering  the  whole  slope  of  the  hill.  Close 
upon  the  edge  of  it  was  a  narrow  green  valley,  between 
which  the  ground  rose  again  and  formed  a  higher 
line  of  hill,  the  side  of  which  was  clothed  with  huge 
beeches.*' 

That  all  is  not  perfect  in  English  landscape  work  Prince 
Puckler  indicates  in  the  following  quotation: 

"I  found  the  garden  (pleasure  ground)  much 
altered,  but  not  I  think  for  the  better;  for  there  is 
now  a  mixture  of  the  regular  and  the  irregular  which 
has  a  very  unpleasant  effect.  The  ugly  fashion  now 
prevalent  in  England  of  planting  the  'pleasure 
ground'  with  single  trees  or  shrubs  placed  at  a 
considerable  distance,  almost  in  rows,  has  been 
introduced  in  several  parts  of  these  grounds.  This 
gives  the  grass  plots  the  air  of  nursery  grounds. 
The  shrubs  are  trimmed  round  so  as  not  to  touch  each 
other,  the  earth  carefully  cleared  about  them  every 
day,  and  the  edges  of  the  turf  cut  in  stiff  lines,  so 
that  you  see  more  of  black  earth  than  of  green  foliage, 
and  the  free  beauty  of  nature  is  quite  checked. " 


262  3Lant>0cape  Hrcbitectute 

For  the  flower  gardens  of  Cheswick  he  has  nothing  but 
praise. 

"On  the  other  hand,"  he  says,  "the  flower  gardens 
are  magnificent.  The  beds  are  so  thinly  planted 
that  each  separate  plant  has  room  to  spread,  except- 
ing in  those  beds  which  are  entirely  filled  with  one 
sort  of  flower.  In  them,  the  chief  aim  is  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  whole,  and  they  are  consequently  by  far 
the  most  beautiful. " 

To  emphasize  more  fully  the  value  of  the  broad, 
simple,  and  wholly  natural  idea  of  -making  a  garden,  an 
example  is  shown  from  Union  College,  Schenectady,  New 
York  State.  There  is  no  pretence  here :  plenty  of  trees 
and  shrubs  with  peonies  and  other  old-fashioned  flowers 
springing  abundantly  at  their  feet;  little  stretches 
of  turf  between  the  flowers  and  the  walk;  then  almost 
out  of  sight  a  brook  running  under  a  bridge  of  plain 
boards  out  into  a  small  grassy  hollow,  lying  in  an 
amphitheatre  under  high  overarching  elms.  The 
Professor  of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy  in 
Union  College,  Isaac  W.  Jackson,  commenced  to  make 
this  garden  in  the  early  thirties  of  the  last  century,  and 
his  daughter,  Mrs.  Benedict,  still  cherishes  it  with  lov- 
ing care. 

I  doubt  not  the  flowers  of  that  garden  sweet 
Rejoiced  in  the  sound  of  her  gentle  feet ; 
I  doubt  not  they  felt  the  spirit  that  came 
From  her  glowing  fingers  thro'  all  their  frame.1 
1  The  Sensitive  Plant,  John  Keats. 

ERRATUM 
Page  262,  footnote — For  John  Keats  read  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 


(Barrens  263 

Prof.  Jackson  had  also  the  "most  delicate  artistic 
feeling  and  he  loved  beauty  with  so  true  an  instinct 
that  one  can  imagine  the  very  flowers  and  shrubs  which 
he  affectionately  tended  returning  his  affection," — thus 
testified  an  old  friend  at  the  time  of  his  death. 

The  garden  is  a  simple  affair,  just  trees,  shrubs,  and 
flowers  and  grass,  nothing  rare  or  specially  unusual, 
only  a  gathering  of  congenial  plant  friends,  who  have 
been  looked  after  for  nearly  a  century  by  people  who 
loved  them.  The  sight  of  this  garden  might  easily 
recall,  to  those  who  have  seen  it,  the  one  at  New  College, 
Oxford,  of  which  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  says  it  has 

"lawns  of  the  richest  green  and  softest  velvet  grass, 
shadowed  over  by  ancient  trees  which  have  lived  a 
quiet  life  here  for  centuries,  and  have  been  nursed  and 
tended  with  such  care,  and  been  so  sheltered  from 
rude  winds,  that  certainly  they  must  have  been  the 
happiest  of  all  trees.  Such  a  sweet,  quiet,  stately 
seclusion — so  age  long  as  this  has  been  and  I  hope 
will  continue  to  be — cannot  exist  anywhere  else. " 

Long  may  these  lovely  old  gardens  continue  to  exist 
in  their  academic  shades  and  cloistered  homes. 


XV 

PUBLIC    PARKS 

'  I  ^HE  problem  of  creating  public  parks  while,  in 
many  respects,  the  same  as  that  of  estates  or 
even  of  gardens,  should  always  be  carefully 
correlated  with  the  rights  and  desires  of  the  public. 
Historically,  the  public  park  is  modern.  A  hundred 
years  ago  there  were  few  public  parks  in  the  strict  sense 
of  the  term,  either  in  Europe  or  America.  People  were 
simply  allowed  to  use  Kings*  and  Princes'  parks. 
Naturally,  such  parks  had  not  been  designed  in  the 
beginning  for  the  use  of  the  people,  although  they  were 
of  great  size  and  magnificence  like  Versailles.  The 
first  man  we  can  find  who  really  seemed  to  comprehend 
and  present  intelligibly  the  idea  of  a  public  park  in 
America  was  Andrew  Jackson  Downing,  and  no  better 
expression  has  been  given  of  appreciation  of  what  he 
did  for  people's  parks  in  both  America  and  Europe  than 
the  eloquent  words  of  William  A.  Stiles  in  the  pages  of 
The  Garden  and  Forest. 

"No  one,"  he  says,  "who  has  looked  into  the  his- 
tory of  public  parks  in  American  cities  and  the 
development  of  the  public  sentiment  which  brought 

264 


public  parfes  265 

them  into  being,  will  deny  that  the  strongest  impulse 
which  the  movement  received  at  the  outset  came 
from  Andrew  Jackson  Downing.  Mr.  Downing  was 
born  with  a  strong  love  of  nature,  and  as  his  father 
was  a  nurseryman  he  was  brought  up  in  a  calling 
that  increased  his  interest  in  trees  and  planting. 
Reared  almost  in  sight  of  many  of  the  old  places  on 
the  Hudson  which  had  been  planned  and  planted  by 
Parmentier  and  others  of  that  older  school,  he  learned 
while  still  young  that  a  landscape  could  be  made 
impressive  by  the  simplest  and  most  natural  treat- 
ment. As  he  was  to  become  our  first  authoritative 
writer  on  the  art  of  landscape  gardening,  the  whole 
country  has  occasion  to  be  thankful  that  he  was  in  this 
way  led  to  adopt  what  was  then  called  the  English 
style  of  gardening,  in  which,  to  quote  his  own  words, 
'  the  spirit  of  nature,  though  softened  and  refined  by 
art,  always  furnished  the  essential  charm,  thus  dis- 
tinguishing it  from  the  French  or  Italian  style,  where 
one  sees  the  effects  of  art  slightly  assisted  by  nature. ' 
Downing  was  a  man  of  catholic  views,  but  while  he 
realized  the  fact  that  vases  and  balustrades  and 
studied  symmetry  might  be  mingled  with  foliage 
enough  to  make  a  garden,  yet  his  ideal  garden-scene 
was  the  primeval  paradise,  whose  pervading  beauty 
was  found  in  the  unstudied  simplicity  of  nature. 
With  his  natural  taste  refined  by  travel  and  by  study, 
Downing's  Treatise  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of 
Landscape  Gardening,  which  was  published  in  1841, 
became  at  once  the  accepted  text-book  of  rural  art  in 


266  SLanbscape  Hrcbitecture 

this  country,  and  this  book,  passing  through  many 
editions,  and  his  Rural  Essays  and  other  works,  are 
still  classics  in  this  branch  of  literature.  It  was  his 
example  and  precept  which  inspired  such  men  as 
Henry  Winthrop  Sargent,  and  they  in  turn  kindled 
the  enthusiasm  of  younger  men,  so  that  the  best 
private  gardens  in  America  to-day  owe  what  is  best 
in  them  to  his  sound  teachings. 

"Downing  was  a  graceful  and  forcible  writer  as  well 
as  an  artist  of  the  highest  intelligence,  and  as  he  had 
been  already  recognized  as  an  authority  a  timely 
series  of  letters  which  he  wrote  for  the  Horticulturist 
on  the  subject  of  public  parks  in  1849  had  a  marked 
influence  in  creating  and  moulding  popular  sentiment 
in  this  direction.  These  essays,  which  appeared 
month  after  month,  and  were  widely  copied  by  the 
press,  marshalled  in  a  convincing  way  the  arguments 
which  were  then  fresh  and  original,  although  many 
of  them  have  since  become  a  part  of  our  common 
knowledge  and  belief.  He  began  by  showing  that 
public  parks  were  needed  not  only  to  educate  the 
public  taste,  but  because  everybody  at  some  time 
felt  the  necessity  for  this  contact  with  nature.  He 
showed  that  this  communion  was  not  only  a  delight 
to  people  who  were  as  unsophisticated  as  children, 
but  that  the  more  thoughtful  and  educated  a  com- 
munity became  the  stronger  grew  the  passion  for 
rural  pleasures.  When  it  was  argued  that  the  people 
would  not  visit  parks,  even  if  artistic  ones  were  con- 
structed, he  pointed  to  the  large  cemeteries  to  prove 


public  iparfes  267 

how  eager  all  classes  were  to  avail  themselves  of  an 
opportunity  for  a  visit  to  anything  resembling  a  park. 
Mount  Auburn,  Greenwood,  and  Laurel  Hill  had 
been  already  established  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
and  that  they  had  come  to  be  places  of  resort  was 
certainly  not  because  they  afforded  opportunity  for 
solemn  meditation  or  for  the  artistic  value  of  the 
monuments  reared  within  them.  He  truly  argued 
that  it  was  because  they  contained  bits  of  forest-land, 
hills  and  dales,  copses  and  glades  that  they  attracted 
throngs  of  visitors  in  cities  which  possessed  no  great 
public  gardens,  and  that  if  thirty  thousand  people 
would  visit  Laurel  Hill  in  one  year  many  times  that 
number  would  visit  a  public  park  in  a  city  like  Phila- 
delphia. He  set  his  argument  on  the  highest  plane 
at  the  very  outset,  and,  while  recognizing  the  use  of 
parks  as  helping  to  furnish  air  and  sunshine,  he  held 
that  the  fostering  of  the  love  of  rural  beauty  was 
quite  as  important  an  end,  and  that  such  a  love  of 
nature  helped  to  civilize  and  refine  national  character. 
Mayor  Kingsland's  proposed  park  of  a  hundred  and 
sixty  acres  he  pronounced  altogether  too  scant,  and 
argued  that  five  hundred  acres  between  Thirty-ninth 
Street  and  the  Harlem  was  the  smallest  space  that 
should  be  reserved  for  the  wants  of  the  city,  since  no 
area  less  than  this  could  furnish  a  rural  landscape  or 
offer  space  enough  for  broad  reaches  of  parkland  with 
a  real  feeling  of  the  breadth  and  beauty  of  green 
fields  and  the  perfume  and  freshness  of  nature.  It 
was  argued  by  some  who  assumed  to  represent  the 


268  SLanfcscape  Ercbitecture 

labouring  classes  that  the  park  would  be  monopolized 
by  those  who  ride  in  their  carriages,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  some  of  the  wealthy  and  refined  people  of  the 
city  complained  that  a  park  would  certainly  be 
usurped  by  rowdies  and  low  people.  It  is  refreshing 
now  to  read  Downing's  replies  to  such  objections. 
He  stoutly  asserted  that  these  social  horrors  were 
nothing  but  phantoms  of  the  imagination;  his  faith 
was,  as  the  event  has  proved,  that  rich  and  poor 
could  breathe  the  same  atmosphere  of  nature  and  of 
art  and  enjoy  the  same  scenery  without  any  jealousy 
or  any  conflict. 

"The  actual  work  of  constructing  Central  Park  was 
not  begun  until  six  years  after  Downing's  untimely 
death,  but  it  was  his  stirring  appeals  that  aroused  the 
city  to  feel  its  need,  and  provision  to  meet  it  quickly 
followed.  By  rare  good  fortune,  too,  designers  were 
found  whose  artistic  temperament  and  training  were 
akin  to  his  own,  so  that  our  first  great  urban  park 
was  planned  on  such  broad  lines  as  he  would  have 
approved.  The  works  which  followed  at  once  in 
Brooklyn,  Buffalo,  Chicago,  San  Francisco,  and  other 
cities  were  beyond  question  the  result  of  this  same 
inspiration,  so  that  his  keen  foresight  and  conscien- 
tious devotion  to  an  idea  were  the  most  powerful  of 
the  agencies  which  united  to  initiate  the  movement 
which  has  given  to  American  cities  their  thousands  of 
acres  of  parkland  during  the  past  thirty-five  years. 
When  we  think  of  the  health  and  comfort,  the  rest 
and  the  refreshment,  the  delight  to  the  eye  and  the 


public  parks  269 

imagination  which  these  smiling  landscapes  have 
given  and  will  continue  for  ever  to  give  to  all  the 
people,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  Downing  takes 
rank  among  the  greatest  benefactors  to  his  country 
which  this  century  has  produced. " 

Largely  as  a  result  of  Downing's  writings  in  the 
Horticulturist  and  in  his  books  and  letters  elsewhere, 
the  idea  gradually  secured  recognition  that  New  York 
needed  a  large  public  park.  In  selecting  a  site  there 
was  much  discussion,  and  at  first  Jones's  Woods  on  the 
East  River  in  the  neighbourhood  of  66th  Street  was 
chosen.  It  is  not  sure  that  in  view  of  later  develop- 
ments better  boundary  lines  might  not  have  been  ob- 
tained at  the  time  than  those  of  the  present  Central 
Park;  and  that  brings  us  to  the  importance  of  giving 
most  careful  and  intelligent  consideration  to  the  choice 
of  public  park  sites.  Let  us  see  what  Mr.  Olmsted  says 
on  this  subject.  No  one  could  speak  with  greater  weight 
of  authority  than  he  did.  This  is  what  he  says  in 
Public  Parks  and  the  Enlargement  of  Towns — in  dis- 
cussing two  different  types  of  grounds  for  park  sites : 

"We  want  a  ground  to  which  people  may  easily  go 
after  their  day's  work  is  done,  and  where  they  may 
stroll  for  an  hour,  seeing,  hearing,  and  feeling  nothing 
of  the  bustle  and  jar  of  the  streets,  where  they  shall 
in  effect  find  the  city  put  far  away  from  them.  We 
want  the  greatest  possible  contrast  with  the  streets 
and  the  shops  and  rooms  of  the  towns  which  will  be 
consistent  with  convenience  and  the  preservation  of 


270  ftanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

good  order  and  neatness.  We  want,  especially,  the 
greatest  possible  contrast  with  the  restraining  and 
confining  conditions  of  the  town,  those  conditions 
which  compel  us  to  walk  circumspectly,  watchfully, 
jealously,  which  compel  us  to  look  closely  on  others 
without  sympathy.  Practically,  what  we  most  want 
is  a  simple,  broad,  open  space  of  clean  greensward, 
with  sufficient  play  of  surface  and  sufficient  number 
of  trees  about  it  to  supply  a  variety  of  light  and  shade. 
This  we  want  as  a  central  feature.  We  want  depth  of 
wood  enough  about  it  not  only  for  comfort  in  hot 
weather,  but  to  completely  shut  out  the  city  from  our 
landscapes. 

"The  word  park  in  town  nomenclature  should,  I 
think,  be  reserved  for  grounds  of  the  character  and 
purpose  thus  described.  Not  only  as  being  the  most 
valuable  of  all  possible  forms  of  public  places,  but 
regarded  simply  as  a  large  space  which  will  seriously 
interrupt  crosstown  communication  wherever  it 
occurs,  the  question  of  the  site  and  bounds  of  the 
park  requires  to  be  determined  with  much  more 
deliberation  and  art  than  is  often  secured  for  any 
problem  of  distant  and  extended  municipal  interests." 
Speaking  further  about  promenades  being  "  congre- 
gated human  life  under  glorious  and  artificial  condi- 
tions/' with  the  natural  landscape  not  essential  to 
them,  he  thus  speaks  of  the  level  compared  with  the 
rugged  or  picturesque  type  of  park :  "there  is  no  more 
beautiful  picture,  and  none  can  be  more  pleasing 
incidentally  to  the  gregarious  purpose  than  of  beauti- 


public 

ful  meadows,  over  which  clusters  of  level-armed 
sheltering  trees  cast  broad  shadows,  and  upon  which 
are  scattered  flocks  of  black-faced  sheep,  while  men, 
women,  and  children  are  seen  sitting  here  and  there 
forming  groups  in  the  shade,  or  moving  in  and  out 
among  the  woody  points  and  bays. 

"It  may  be  inferred  from  what  I  have  said  that  very 
rugged  ground,  abrupt  eminences,  and  what  is  techni- 
cally called  picturesque  in  distinction  from  merely 
beautiful  or  simply  pleasing  scenery,  is  not  the  most 
desirable  for  a  town  park.  Decidedly  not  in  my 
opinion.  The  park  should  as  far  as  possible  comple- 
ment the  town.  Openness  is  the  one  thing  you  can- 
not get  in  buildings.  Picturesqueness  you  can  get. 
Let  your  buildings  be  as  picturesque  as  your  artists 
can  make  them.  This  is  the  beauty  of  a  town. 
Consequently  the  beauty  of  the  park  should  be 
the  other.  It  should  be  the  beauty  of  the  fields,  the 
meadow,  the  prairie,  of  the  green  pastures  and  the 
still  waters.  What  we  want  to  gain  is  tranquillity 
and  rest  of  mind.  Mountains  suggest  effort.  But 
besides  this  objection  there  are  others  of  what  I  may 
indicate  as  the  housekeeping  class.  It  is  impossible 
to  give  the  public  range  over  a  large  extent  of  ground 
of  a  highly  picturesque  character,  unless  under  very 
exceptional  circumstances,  and  sufficiently  guarded 
against  the  occurrence  of  opportunities  and  tempta- 
tions to  shabbiness,  disorder,  indecorum,  and  inde- 
cency that  will  be  subversive  of  every  good  purpose 
the  park  should  be  designed  to  fulfil." 


272  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

Mr.  Olmsted  in  the  Mt.  Royal  Park  Report  again 
follows  out  much  the  same  line  of  thought : 

"The  value  of  a  city  property  is  to  depend  on  the 
design  in  which  it  shall  be  adapted  to  attract  citizens 
to  obtain  needful  exercise  and  cheerful  mental  occu- 
pation in  the  open  air,  with  the  result  of  better  health 
and  fitness  in  all  respects  for  the  trials  and  duties  of 
life;  with  the  result  also  necessarily  of  greater  earn- 
ing and  taxpaying  capacities  so  that  in  the  end  the 
investment  will  be  in  this  respect  a  commercially 
profitable  one  to  the  city. " 

Mr.  Olmsted  also  says  in  the  Mt.  Royal  Park  Report 
that 

"The  possession  of  charming  natural  scenery 
is  a  form  of  wealth  as  practical  as  that  of  wholesome 
air,  pure  water,  or  sunlight  unobstructed  by  smoke  or 
fog,  as  practical  as  that  of  sewers,  aqueducts,  and 
pavements.'* 

There  is  a  more  potent  influence,  however,  than  the 
mere  bodily  one,  valuable  as  that  is,  namely  the  re- 
freshment and  uplift  of  the  spirit  that  come  from  the 
poetical  side  of  the  nature  of  most  men.  Here  is  the 
way  that  Mr.  Olmsted  explains  and  illustrates  this 
point : 

"Let  us  say  that  for  the  time  being  the  charm  of 
natural  scenery  tends  to  make  us  poets.  There  is  a 
sensibility  to  poetic  inspiration  in  every  man  of  us, 
and  its  utter  suppression  means  a  sadly  morbid  con- 


public  jparfes  273 

dition.  Poets  we  may  not  be;  but  a  little  lifted  out 
of  ordinary  prose  we  may  be  often  to  our  advantage. 
'To  compare  our  small  measures  with  larger  let  us 
take  a  recorded  experience  of  a  full-grown  poet. 
Wordsworth,  only  greater  in  poetic  sensibility  than 
any  one  of  us,  not  differently  organized,  not  differently 
affected  by  medicine,  came  home  from  a  painful 
experience  in  France  after  its  great  revolution,  sick, 
broken  down,  unfit  for  business.  Everything  was 
going  wrong  with  him.  His  sister  Dorothy,  of  whom 
it  was  well  said  that  she  was  the  greater  poet  of  the 
two,  only  that  she  was  not  a  literary  poet,  watched 
his  symptoms,  saw  the  nature  of  his  troubles,  and 
divined  their  cure.  She  persuaded  him  to  let  her 
guide  him  into  the  midst  of  charming  scenery,  and 
subject  himself  for  a  time  to  its  influence/  and  thus, 
says  Dr.  Shairp,  telling  the  story,  'began  the  sanative 
process  which  restored  him  to  his  true  self  and  made 
that  blessing  to  the  world  that  he  has  become.' 
Commenting  further  on  Wordsworth's  case  he  writes, 
1  continuing  the  study  of  nature  (not  with  the  science 
of  the  botanist,  or  the  florist,  but  the  poet),  he  at  last 
came  to  hold  the  conscious  conviction,  what  he  had  at 
first  felt  it,  hardly  knowing  that  he  felt  it,  that  nature 
had  a  life  of  her  own,  which  streamed  through  and 
stimulated  his  life,  a  spirit  which,  in  itself  invisible, 
spoke  through  visible  things  to  his  spirit/ x  That  the 
characteristics  of  this  spirit  were  calmness,  which 

1  The  Poetic  Interpretation  of  Nature,  p.    249,  Dr.  John   Campbell 
Shairp. 

18 


274  Xanbscape  Hrcbttecture 

stilled  and  refreshed  man;  sublimity,  which  raised 
him  to  noble  thoughts;  tenderness,  which,  while 
stirring  in  the  largest  and  loftiest  things,  condescends 
to  the  lowest :  is  with  the  humblest  worm  and  weed  as 
much  as  in  the  greatest  movements  of  the  elements 
or  the  stars.  Above  all,  nature  he  now  saw  to  be 
the  shape  and  image  of  right  reason, — reason  in  its 
highest  sense  embodied  and  made  visible  in  order, 
stability,  in  conformity  to  eternal  law.  The  percep- 
tion of  this  satisfied  his  intellect  and  calmed  and 
soothed  his  heart."1 

The  sanative  and  pleasurable  effects  of  "rural  inci- 
dents" and  open  grass  spaces  of  comparatively  large 
extent  are  continually  emphasized  in  the  writings  of 
Olmsted  and  Vaux  whether  they  have  been  indited 
jointly  or  individually.  Of  all  the  different  country 
experiences  the  charms  of  which  they  proclaim,  the 
great  sweeping  meadows  and  shadowing  trees  on  their 
borders,  and  now  and  then  in  the  midst,  are  considered 
the  most  important— the  green  pastures  and  still 
waters,  the  restful  embrace  and  life-giving  glance  of 
nature,  where  the  turf  and  lakes  or  streams  give  new 
vigour  to  exhausted  human  beings,  and  prove  that  of  all 
the  phases  of  park  landscape,  the  best  and  happiest  is 
the  pastoral  one. 

Read  what  Olmsted  and  Vaux  say  on  this  subject  of 
the  pastoral  landscape  in  the  Tenth  Annual  Report  to 
the  Prospect  Park  Commissioners  in  1873: 
1  Mt.  Royal  Park  Report. 


public  parfes  275 

"The  development  of  the  pastoral  idea  in  its  most 
favourable  aspects  is  possible  in  a  large  city  park  and 
it  is  the  peculiar  advantage  of  the  ground  under  your 
control  that  it  offers  an  unusually  favourable  oppor- 
tunity for  the  purpose.  A  stretch  of  greensward  a 
mile  in  length,  surrounded  by  woods  and  unbroken  by 
any  carriage  way,  should  certainly  offer  a  field  of 
ample  dimensions  for  an  illustration  of  the  idea,  and 
this  we  have  in  the  Brooklyn  Park.  Thousands  of 
people,  without  any  sense  of  crowding,  stroll  about 
on  the  level  or  undulating  sunny  or  shaded  turf 
spaces  that  are  to  be  found  in  this  strip  of  pasture  or 
woodland." 

The  report  goes  on  to  state  that  they  made  every 
effort  to  improve  a  large  portion  of  the  ground  with 
special  reference  to  the  development  of  this  element  of 
pastoral  effect  in  pursuit  of  which  they  say  they  have, 
at  several  points,  made  considerable  changes  in  the  sur- 
face of  the  ground  so  as  to  connect  a  series  of  dissevered 
and  isolated  patches  of  comparatively  level  ground 
into  one  sweep  of  grass  land  that  is  extensive  enough 
to  make  a  really  permanent  impression  on  the  mind. 

Again  in  an  earlier  report  of  1866  to  the  Prospect 
Park  Commissioners,  Olmsted  and  Vaux.when  dis- 
cussing initial  ideas  which  should  govern  in  judging  the 
capabilities  and  limitations  of  a  park  site,  with  refer- 
ence to  the  artistic  purpose,  strongly  emphasize  the 
importance  of  securing  as  much  pastoral  effect  as  the 
conditions  will  allow: 


276  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

"The  first  process  in  the  application  of  this  art 
[landscape  architecture]  upon  any  given  site  is  the 
formation  of  a  judgment  upon  the  capabilities  and  the 
limitations  of  that  site  with  reference  to  the  artistic 
purpose.  It  is  obviously  impossible,  for  instance,  to 
produce  in  the  vicinity  of  Brooklyn  such  scenery  as 
will  affect  the  mind  as  it  is  affected  by  the  Alps  or  the 
Sierras  on  the  one  hand,  or  by  the  luxuriant  vegeta- 
tion of  a  tropical  swamp  on  the  other. 

''Moreover  there  are  certain  kinds  of  scenery  which 
experience  shows  to  be  most  satisfactory  in  a  town 
park,  which  require  an  extensive  aggregation  of  their 
elements.  It  will  be  readily  seen  for  instance  that  if 
all  the  wood,  water,  and  turf  within  a  certain  area  of 
ground  were  distributed  in  patches,  strips,  and  pools, 
however  extensive  as  a  whole,  and  however  varied  in 
detail  it  might  seem  to  those  who  should  thoroughly 
explore  all  its  parts,  there  would  be  no  part  which 
would  not  seem  confined,  there  could  be  no  large 
open  single  scene,  and  no  such  impression  or  effect 
on  the  mind  would  be  produced  as  there  would  be  if 
all  the  water  were  collected  in  a  lake,  all  the  trees  in 
one  grove,  all  the  strips  of  grass  in  one  broad  meadow. 
Such  aggregations,  and  consequently  the  degree  of 
the  impression  intended  to  be  produced  by  them, 
must  be  limited  by  consideration  for  two  other  pur- 
poses, the  purpose  of  variety  and  interest,  and  the 
purpose  to  make  all  the  scenery  available  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  public  by  ways  of  communication. 
Other  limitations  upon  the  artistic  purpose,  again, 


public  parfcs  277 

are  imposed  by  conditions  of  soil  and  exposure,  by 
rock  and  springs.  How  far  each  of  these  can  be  over- 
come, as  by  blasting,  grading,  draining,  screening, 
manuring,  and  other  processes,  has  to  be  studied  with 
care,  and  the  artistic  purposes  of  the  plan  must  be 
affected  in  every  part  and  particular  by  the  conclu- 
sions arrived  at. 

"In  the  case  before  us,  it  is  obvious  that  we  should 
attempt  nothing  that  is  incompatible  with,  or  in- 
appropriate to,  comparatively  slight  variations  of 
surface  and  a  climate  of  considerable  rigour.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  are  no  protruding  ledges  of  rock, 
no  swamps  difficult  of  drainage,  and  there  is  no  es- 
pecial bleakness  or  danger  to  trees  from  violent  winds 
to  be  apprehended.  It  is  under  similar  conditions 
to  these  that  we  find  in  nature  that  class  of  scenery 
already  referred  to  as  the  original  and  typical  scenery 
of  parks  and  which  is  termed  pastoral.  It  consists  of 
combinations  of  trees,  standing  singly  or  in  groups, 
and  casting  their  shadows  over  broad  stretches  of  turf, 
or  repeating  their  beauty  by  reflection  in  the  calm 
surface  of  pools,  and  the  predominant  associations 
are  in  the  highest  degree  tranquillizing  and  grate- 
ful. As  expressed  by  the  Hebrew  poet:  'He  maketh 
me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures,  he  leadeth  me  beside 
the  still  waters/  We  know  of  no  other  landscape 
effects  that  can  be  commanded  within  the  limitations 
fixed  by  the  conditions  of  this  site  which  experience 
shows  to  be  more  desirable  in  a  town  park  than  these. 
Only  so  far  then  as  we  can  without  sacrificing  any- 


278  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitectute 

thing  that  will  contribute  to  the  highest  practicable 
ideal  of  pastoral  scenery,  should  we  endeavour  to 
secure  any  degree  of  those  other  ideals,  of  which  the 
best  types  are  found  under  widely  dissimilar  cir- 
cumstances. 

"Although  we  cannot  have  wild  mountain  defiles, 
for  instance,  in  the  park,  we  may  have  stony  ravines 
shaded  with  trees,  and  made  picturesque  with  shrubs, 
the  forms  and  arrangement  of  which  remind  us  of 
mountain  scenery.  We  may,  perhaps,  even  secure 
some  slight  approach  to  the  mystery,  variety,  and 
richness  of  tropical  scenery  by  an  assemblage  of 
certain  forms  of  vegetation,  gay  with  flowers,  and 
intricate  and  mazy  with  vines  and  creepers,  ferns, 
rushes,  and  broad-leaved  plants.  All  we  can  do  in 
these  directions  must  be  confessedly  imperfect  and 
suggestive  rather  than  satisfying  to  the  imagination. 
It  must,  therefore,  be  made  incidental  and  sub- 
ordinate to  our  first  purpose. " 

When  it  is  fully  recognized  that  the  poetic,  artistic 
quality  of  a  public  park  constitutes  one  of  its  chief 
assets  of  value,  and  that  the  development  of  the  features 
that  lend  this  quality  to  the  landscape  is  of  supreme 
advantage,  the  following  words  of  Mr.  Olmsted  are 
specially  pertinent,  giving  an  idea  of  the  vast  extent 
that  a  park  development  may  reach.  Speaking  of  Mt. 
Royal  Park,  Montreal,  he  writes: 

"Among  properties  of  its  class  your  mountain 
park  possesses  one  marked  advantage  over  all  others, 


public  parks  279 

I  mean  that  of  noble  views  extending  far  beyond  its 
borders.  These  are  of  such  extent  and  so  composed 
and  their  foregrounds  within  the  property  are  so 
easily  adapted  to  increase  their  value:  their  interest  is 
so  varied  according  to  the  direction  of  the  outlook  and 
the  passing  effect  of  clouds  and  atmospheric  condi- 
tions, that  it  is  not  only  impossible  to  speak  of  them 
in  adequate  terms  of  admiration,  but  trying  to  make 
a  business  estimate  of  them  and  seeking  standards 
of  comparison  for  the  purpose,  it  will  be  found 
that  what  communities  have  been  able  to  obtain  by 
expenditures  counting  in  millions  of  dollars  is  really 
too  insignificant  to  be  available  for  the  purpose. " 

"It  might  be  a  question  whether  the  most  valuable 
influence  of  properties  of  this  class  (mountainous) 
is  to  be  found  in  such  distinct  sensational  features, 
even  though  provided  by  nature,  as  are  commonly 
most  consciously  felt,  most  talked  about,  and  written 
about,  or  in  more  unobtrusive,  pervading,  homelike 
qualities  of  which  the  effects  come  to  us  less  in  a 
torrent-like  way  than  as  the  gentle  persuasive  dew, 
falling  so  softly  as  to  be  imperceptible  and  yet 
delightfully  invigorating  in  its  results.  Even  this 
might  be  to  some  a  question,  but  let  any  man  ask 
himself  whether  the  value  of  such  views  as  the  grand- 
est that  the  mountain  offers  is  greater  when  they  are 
made  distinct  spectacles,  or  when  they  are  enjoyed 
as  successive  incidents  of  a  sustained  landscape  poem 
to  each  of  which  the  mind  is  gradually,  sweetly  led 


280  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

up,  and  from  which  it  is  gradually  and  sweetly  led 
away  so  that  they  become  a  consistent  experience; 
let  him  ask  this  with  reference  to  the  soothing  and 
refreshment  of  a  town-strained  human  organization, 
and  he  will  need  no  argument  to  lead  him  to  a  sound 
conclusion." 

In  other  words  it  may  be  said  of  parks  as  of  painting 
and  poetry  that  they  should  suggest  thoughts  of  potent 
and  distinct  influence  on  the  mind.  The  thoughts  sug- 
gested may  vary  with  the  point  of  view  and  mental 
condition  of  the  individual,  but  they  should  in  any  case 
arouse  the  mind  and  uplift  and  vivify  the  spirit. 

Olmsted  and  Vaux  in  their  work  in  Prospect  Park, 
Brooklyn,  New  York,  and  Central  Park,  New  York, 
have  produced  noteworthy  examples  of  pastoral  scenery 
combined  with  woodland  effects  of  the  kind  that  not 
only  inspires  thoughts  of  a  different  kind  but  that  en- 
hances by  contrast  the  beauty  of  the  meadows.  These 
thoughts  are  explained  in  the  following  extracts  from 
another  report  made  at  the  time  the  parks  were  com- 
menced. How  true  and  fine  were  these  conceptions 
is  shown  by  the  supreme  beauty  of  these  parks  at  the 
present  time  some  fifty  years  later. 

"Two  classes  of  improvements  were  to  be  planned 
for  this  purpose:  one  directed  to  secure  pure  and 
wholesome  air,  to  act  through  the  lungs,  the  other 
to  secure  an  antithesis  of  objects  of  vision  to  those 
streets  and  houses  which  shall  act  remedially,  by  im- 


public  jparfes  281 

pressions  on  the  mind  and  suggestions  to  the  imagi- 
nation. 

"The  latter  only  require  our  present  attention  and 
the  first  question  with  reference  to  them  is:  What 
class  of  objects  are  best  adapted  to  the  purpose? 

"Experience should  lead  most  men  to  answer  that 
they  are  chiefly  such  as  give  the  characteristic  charm 
to  gardens,  pleasure  grounds,  and  rural  landscapes. 
But  some  consideration  may  be  required  to  determine 
by  what  mode  of  selection  from  among  these,  and  by 
what  general  principle  of  arrangement,  the  highest 
practicable  degree  of  the  desired  effect  is  to  be  at- 
tained. It  sometimes  occurs  that  certain  species  of 
trees  grow  naturally  under  conditions  which  favour 
such  a  result,  in  forms  of  extraordinary  symmetry, 
their  heads  each  having  the  outline  of  a  haycock  set 
upon  a  straight  perpendicular  pose.  Occasionally 
several  such  trees  may  be  found  in  nature,  growing 
together.  Any  number  of  objects  of  that  character 
would  have  but  limited  value,  if  any,  for  the  purpose 
of  the  park,  because  it  is  a  character  more  nearly 
compatible  in  a  tree  than  any  other  with  the  con- 
venience of  men  when  living  compactly  in  streets  and 
houses.  Trees  of  that  form  might  be,  and  in  fact 
sometimes  are,  grown  along  the  streets  of  the  city, 
between  rows  of  houses. 

"A  series  of  rosebushes,  grown  in  pots,  trained  to 
single  stakes,  would  have  still  less  value.  Trim  beds  of 
flowers,  such  as  might  be  set  on  the  drawing-room 
table,  or  in  the  fore  court  of  a  city  dwelling,  still  less. 


282  Xanbscape  Hrcbttecture 

A  cluster  of  hornbeams  and  hemlocks,  the  trunks  of 
some  twisting  over  a  crannied  rock,  the  face  of  the 
rock  brightened  by  lichens  and  half -veiled  by  tresses  of 
vines  growing  over  it  from  the  rear,  and  its  base  lost 
in  a  tangle  of  ground  pine,  mosses,  and  ferns,  would 
be  of  considerable  value,  partly  because  of  the  greater 
difficulty  of  reconciling  the  presence  of  such  an  assem- 
blage of  objects  with  the  requirements  of  convenience 
in  the  streets,  but  mainly  because  the  intricate  dis- 
position of  lights  and  shadows  seen  in  the  back  parts 
of  it  would  create  a  degree  of  obscurity  not  absolutely 
impenetrable,  but  sufficient  to  affect  the  imagination 
with  a  sense  of  mystery.  A  broad  stretch  of  slightly 
undulating  meadow  without  defined  edge,  its  turf 
lost  in  the  haze  of  the  shadows  of  scattered  trees 
under  the  branches  of  which  the  eye  could  range, 
would  be  of  even  higher  value,  and  if  beyond  this 
meadow  occurred  a  depression  of  the  surface,  and  the 
heads  of  other  trees  were  seen  again  at  an  uncertain 
distance,  the  conditions  would  be  most  of  all  avail- 
able for  the  purpose  in  view,  first  because  there  would 
be  positive  assurance  of  a  certain  considerable  extent 
of  space  free  of  all  ordinary  urban  conditions,  and  in 
the  soft,  smooth,  tranquil  surface  of  turf,  of  immunity 
from  the  bustling,  violent,  and  wearing  influences 
which  act  upon  the  surface  of  the  streets ;  and  secondly 
because  the  imagination,  looking  into  the  soft  com- 
mingling lights  and  shadows  and  fading  tints  of  colour 
of  the  background,  would  have  encouragement  to 
extend  these  purely  rural  conditions  indefinitely. 


public  parfes  283 

"  Considering  that  large  classes  of  rural  objects  and 
many  types  of  natural  scenery  are  not  practicable  to 
be  introduced  on  the  site  of  a  park, — mountain,  ocean, 
desert,  and  prairie  scenery  for  example, — it  will  be 
found  that  the  most  valuable  form  that  could  have 
been  prescribed  is  that  which  we  have  last  indicated, 
and  which  may  be  distinguished  from  all  others  as 
pastoral.  But  the  site  of  the  park  having  had  a  very 
heterogeneous  surface  which  was  largely  formed  of 
solid  rock,  it  was  not  desirable  that  the  attempt 
should  be  made  to  reduce  it  all  to  the  simplicity  of 
pastoral  scenery.  What  would  be  the  central  motive 
of  design  required  of  the  rest?  Clearly  that  it 
should  be  given  such  character  as,  while  affording 
contrast  and  variety  of  scene,  would,  as  much  as 
possible,  be  confluent  to  the  same  end,  namely,  the 
constant  suggestion  to  the  imagination  of  an  un- 
limited range  of  rural  conditions. 

"The  pleasing  uncertainty  and  mysterious  tone 
which  chiaro-oscuro  lends  to  the  distance  of  an  open 
pastoral  landscape  certainly  cannot  be  paralleled  in 
rugged  ground  where  the  scope  of  the  vision  is  limited ; 
but  a  similar  influence  on  the  mind,  less  only  in  de- 
gree, is  experienced  as  we  pass  near  the  edge  of  a  long 
stretch  of  natural  woods,  the  outer  trees  disposed  in 
irregular  clusters,  the  underwood  mingling  at  inter- 
vals with  their  foliage.  Under  such  circumstances, 
although  the  eye  nowhere  penetrates  far,  an  agree- 
able suggestion  is  conveyed  to  the  imagination  of 
freedom,  and  of  interest  beyond  the  objects  that 


284  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

meet  the  eye.  While,  therefore,  elements  of  scenery 
of  this  class  (which  may,  for  the  present  purpose,  be 
distinguished  as  picturesque,  sylvan  scenery)  would 
both  acquire  and  impart  value  from  their  contrast 
with  the  simpler  elements  of  open  pastoral  landscapes ; 
their  effect,  by  tending  to  withdraw  the  mind  to  an 
indefinite  distance  from  the  objects  associated  with 
the  streets  and  walls  of  a  city,  would  be  of  the  same 
character. 

"The  question  of  adjusting  and  localizing  these  two 
classes  of  landscape  elements  to  the  various  elements 
of  the  topography  of  the  park  next  occurs,  the  study 
of  which  must  begin  with  the  consideration  that  the 
park  is  surrounded  by  an  artificial  wall  twice  as  high 
as  the  great  wall  of  China  composed  of  urban  build- 
ings. Wherever  this  should  appear  across  a  meadow 
view  the  imagination  would  be  checked  abruptly  at 
short  range.  Natural  objects  were  thus  required  to 
be  interposed,  which,  while  excluding  the  buildings 
as  much  as  possible  from  view,  would  leave  an  un- 
certainty as  to  the  occupation  of  the  space  beyond, 
and  establish  a  horizon  line  composed  as  much  as 
possible  of  verdure.  No  one  looking  into  a  closely 
grown  wood  can  be  certain  that  at  a  short  distance 
back  there  are  not  glades  or  streams,  or  that  a  more 
open  disposition  of  trees  does  not  prevail. 

"  A  range  of  high  woods,  or  of  trees  so  disposed  as  to 
produce  an  effect  when  seen  from  a  short  distance 
looking  outwardly  from  the  central  parts  of  the  park, 
of  a  natural  woodside,  must  be  regarded  more  nearly 


public  parks  285 

indispensable  to  the  purpose  in  view — that  of  re- 
lieving the  visitor  from  the  city — than  any  other 
available  feature.  The  site  of  the  park  being  natur- 
ally very  broken  and  largely  composed  of  masses  of 
rock,  the  extent  to  which  the  meadow-like  surface  of 
pastoral  scenery  could  be  introduced  in  the  plan  was 
limited.  It  was  then,  first  of  all,  required  that  such 
parts  of  the  site  as  were  available  and  necessary  to 
the  purpose  should  be  assigned  to  the  occupation  of 
elements  which  would  compose  a  woodside,  screening 
incongruous  objects  without  the  park  as  much  as 
possible  from  the  view  of  observers  within  it. 

"  Secondly,  of  the  remaining  ground  it  was  required 
to  assign  as  much  as  was  available  to  the  occupation 
of  elements  which  would  compose  tranquil,  open,  pas- 
toral scenes. 

"Thirdly,  it  was  required  to  leave  all  of  the  yet 
remaining  ground  to  elements  which  would  tend  to 
form  passages  of  scenery  contrasting  in  depth  of 
obscurity  and  picturesque  character  of  detail  with 
the  softness  and  simplicity  of  the  open  landscapes."1 

The  artistic  necessity  in  park  landscape  gardening 
of  having  types  of  effect  persist  in  some  kind  of  size  and 
form  and  colour  everywhere;  the  one  general  effect 
among  many,  the  grass  space,  the  lake  or  pool  surface, 
trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers  around,  even  a  colony  of 
flowers,  a  flower  bed,  if  you  will,  all  repeating  in  a  hund- 

1  Second  Annual  Report  to  the  New  York  Park  Department, 
Olmsted  &  Co. 


286  Xanfcscape  Brcbitecture 

red  ways  whatever  makes  pastoral  and  picturesque 
changes  true  to  the  nature  of  the  place:  this  is  well 
explained  in  the  following  words: 

"It  has  been  stated  that  this  park  [Central  Park] 
differs  from  most  English  parks  in  substituting  a 
multiplicity  of  small  picturesque  scenes  for  broad 
expanses  of  turf  but  it  ought  hot  to  be  forgotten  that 
the  park  has  the  same  pastoral  charm  of  simple, 
natural  scenery  which  is  found  in  landscapes  where 
the  features  are  broader.  When  the  site  was  selected 
not  the  slightest  attention  was  given  to  its  landscape 
possibilities,  and  the  fact  seemed  only  to  be  considered 
that  it  was  in  the  centre  of  the  island  and  that  the 
ground  was  so  broken  and  intractable  that  it  would 
cost  as  much  to  construct  streets  throughout  it  on 
the  established  rectangular  system  as  it  would  to 
re-form  it  into  a  pleasure  ground.  South  of  the  res- 
ervoir the  surface  was  so  rugged  and  heterogeneous, 
traversed  as  it  was  diagonally  by  ridges  of  outcrop- 
ping gneiss,  with  marshy  hollows  between  them,  that 
no  opportunity  for  making  a  spacious  meadow-like 
effect  was  offered.  The  upper  half  of  the  park  could 
be  treated  in  a  somewhat  broader  way,  as  its  natural 
features  were  larger,  its  slopes  had  a  grander  sweep, 
and  its  horizon  lines  were  nobler.  The  only  landscape 
effects  which  could  be  produced  under  these  restric- 
tions were  such  as  could  be  controlled  between  the 
boundaries  of  a  long  narrow,  rocky  territory  with  no 
prominent  points  commanding  extensive  views.  No 


public  parfcs  287 

doubt,  if  the  same  intelligent  study  could  have  been 
applied  to  the  selection  of  a  site  which  was  given  later 
to  devising  contrivances  to  remedy  its  defects,  the 
park  could  have  been  made  still  more  satisfying. 
Nevertheless  it  was  the  primary  effort  of  the  design- 
ers to  make  as  large  open  spaces  as  were  practicable. 
Two  considerable  stretches  of  greensward  were  pro- 
cured in  the  lower  part  at  great  expense  by  blast- 
ing out  protruding  rock  and  filling  the  space  with 
earth  and  mould.  As  it  is  the  green  contains  about 
sixteen  acres  and  the  ball  ground  but  ten  acres,  al- 
though they  both  seem  much  larger.  The  rolling 
surface  of  the  green  and  its  obscure  borders  where  the 
limits  of  the  grass  are  lost  in  the  shady  recesses  among 
the  trees  through  which  glimpses  of  grassy  slopes  are 
seen  at  intervals  beyond,  all  suggest  indefinite  dis- 
tances to  the  imagination.  All  the  roads  are  ar- 
ranged so  as  to  bring  these  spaces  into  view — several 
times  from  different  points  with  varying  effect.  Of 
course,  there  is  a  greater  sense  of  enlargement  and 
freedom  experienced  in  the  north  meadows,  but  even 
here  only  nineteen  acres  could  possibly  be  secured. 
These  small  picturesque  scenes,  therefore,  were  not 
used  because  the  designers  considered  them  prefer- 
able to  large  expanses  and  simple  groves,  but  because 
this  was  the  only  possible  method  of  treating  the 
ground.  They  were  so  used,  however,  as  to  produce 
the  same  effect  upon  the  imagination  as  broad  pas- 
toral scenes.  The  small  spaces  are  distributed 
through  the  park  in  such  a  way  that  they  carry  for- 


288  Xanoscape  Hrcbitecture 

ward  and  emphasize  the  softness  and  simplicity  of  the 
meadow  scenery.  Even  the  Ramble,  which  is  char- 
acterized by  intricacy  and  picturesqueness  and  where 
there  are  places  which  have  all  the  mysterious  charm 
of  a  natural  wild  wood,  there  are  many  little  grassy 
openings  bordered  with  trees  which  repeat  the 
meadows  in  a  small  way  and  carry  the  idea  of  pastoral 
quiet  throughout  the  work.  Indeed,  the  great  value 
of  Central  Park  is  that  it  is  a  work  with  unity  of 
design  and  that  it  is  consistent  throughout,  and  it 
still  remains  the  best,  as  it  was  the  first  example  of  a 
pleasure  ground  designed  to  have  the  restful  charm 
of  natural  scenery  and  yet  completely  enclosed  by  a 
compactly  built  city.  .  .  . 

"  'Truly,'  says  an  English  writer,  'the  transforma- 
tion of  a  tract  of  swamp  and  rock  into  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  parks  in  the  world  is  a  striking  monument 
of  American  skill  and  perseverance.'  It  is  more  than 
that,  it  is  a  work  of  genius,  and  the  more  it  is  studied, 
the  more  we  wonder  at  the  prophetic  power  of  the 
designers  in  providing  so  far  in  advance  for  the  wants 
of  a  city,  which  only  existed  at  the  time  in  imagina- 
tion. Whenever  any  radical  change  in  this  design 
is  proposed,  the  project  should  always  be  examined 
with  reference  to  its  effect  on  the  fundamental  charac- 
ter of  the  work  as  a  whole.  It  is  just  as  truly  a 
unit  in  conception  as  if  it  consisted  of  one  broad 
meadow."1 

1  Garden  and   Forest,  William  A.  Stiles,  New  York  Park   Commis- 
sioner. 


public  parks  289 

There  are  other  elements  yet  to  be  considered;  but 
those  already  classified  and  assigned  to  various  quarters 
of  the  site,  contribute  directly  to  the  general  and  char- 
acteristic purpose  of  the  park  and  are  therefore  to  be 
distinguished  as  its  essential  elements. 

After  studying  the  essential  artistic  elements,  es- 
pecially the  poetic  elements  that  mark  and  emphasize 
the  difference  between  a  playground,  a  farm,  a  field, 
and  a  park,  we  find  these  authors  (Olmsted  and  Vaux) 
writing  in  illuminating  phrase  and  warning  against  the 
employment  in  parks  of  features  which,  though  possess- 
ing a  value  of  their  own,  do  not  contribute  to,  much  less 
enhance,  their  characteristic  beauty: 

"Accessory  elements  by  which  walking,  riding, 
driving,  resting,  eating,  and  drinking  are  facilitated, 
were  also  to  be  required  in  the  design  of  the  park, 
in  so  far  as  they  would  be  instruments  necessary  to 
be  used  to  obtain  the  benefit  of  its  essential  elements. 

"  But  if  people  were  allowed  to  straggle  at  will  any- 
where upon  the  ground  and  if  provision  were  made 
for  their  doing  so  comfortably  and  with  cleanliness, 
all  the  ground  would  need  to  be  specially  prepared 
for  the  purpose;  there  would  be  no  turf  and  no  trees 
upon  it,  and  it  would  afford  no  relief  from  the  city. 
It  will  thus  be  seen  that  these  accessory  elements  of 
the  park  are  admissible  only  where  and  so  far  as  the 
advantages  they  offer  make  its  essential  elements 
available,  and  compensate  for  any  curtailment 

their  introduction   may  involve  in  these  essential 
19 


290  !Hanbscape  Htcbftectute 

elements.  They  are  desirable  so  far  as  they  aid  the 
essential  elements  in  inviting  the  observer  to  rest  or 
move  forward  in  one  way  or  another,  as  shall  most 
conduce  to  his  recreation.  They  are  undesirable  in  so 
far  as  they  tend  to  weaken,  divide,  blot,  or  make 
patchwork  of  the  essential  features  of  the  natural 
landscape. 

"The  first  consideration,  then,  in  a  truly  critical 
study  of  the  size,  form,  and  place  in  the  park  of  any 
required  construction  for  the  accommodation  of  vis- 
itors was  originally,  and  always  should  be,  that  the 
degree  of  display  which  may  be  allowed  in  it  should 
correspond,  as  nearly  as  other  considerations  will 
permit,  with  the  importance  of  the  need  it  is  designed 
to  meet :  this  being  measured  not  only  by  its  average 
value  to  each  user,  but  with  regard  also  to  the  number 
of  those  who  will  have  occasion  to  use  it. " 

Bridges  in  landscape  gardening  are  in  reality  what 
Olmsted  and  Vaux  term  an  accessory,  and  not  an  essen- 
tial artistic  necessity  of  the  landscape  design.  As  a 
feature  of  the  landscape,  their  artistic  necessity  is  not 
felt  when  compared  with  the  elements  of  trees,  shrubs, 
water  and  grass  spaces; — but  the  accessory  of  first  im- 
portance is  the  passageways  that  lead  the  observer  to 
the  different  views  of  the  landscape  picture,  and  the 
bridge  forms  part  of  these  passageways.  There  is  no 
question,  however,  that  more  than  most  other  accesso- 
ries in  the  landscape,  the  bridge  may  be  so  used  as  to 
give  a  charm  and  variety  which  may  be  kept  in  harmony 


public  parfes  291 

with  the  general  scheme.  The  general  features  of  its 
construction  should  be  therefore  blended  largely  with 
foliage,  retaining  the  pervading  idea  of  natural  effect. 
But  the  fact  that  it  is  a  bridge  for  people  to  use  in  pass- 
ing that  way,  makes  it  important  that  it  shall  be  safe 
and  comfortable.  For  the  same  reason  the  bridge  struc- 
ture should  be  quite  visible.  Hence  its  location,  form, 
and  material  of  construction  become  important.  It 
may  consist  of  stepping-stones,  of  one  solid  arch,  or  of  a 
series  of  arches.  There  may  be  many  forms,  but  they 
should  be  as  simple  as  possible  and  as  unobtrusive: 
lines,  proportions,  all  seemly  and  graceful,  yet  with 
as  little  pretension  to  architectural  display  as  may  be. 
It  is  naturally  chiefly  a  question  of  choosing  material 
fitted  to  special  conditions,  and  usually,  almost  in- 
variably, stone  of  rustic  character  is  to  be  preferred  for 
bridges  in  the  midst  of  a  landscape,  but  it  might  readily 
be  that  some  spot  would  suggest  the  use  of  wood  or  even 
iron.  Central  Park  has  in  its  Bow  Bridge  a  light  iron 
structure  of  such  grace  that  its  loss  would  be  irreparable 
(see  illustration).  Artificial  stone  or  cement  in  any 
form  or  mixture  should  be  barred.  In  the  midst  of 
trees  and  foliage  its  unnatural  appearance  is  specially 
objectionable. 

The  entrance  and  exit  of  a  bridge  should  be  clothed 
and  screened  with  foliage  and  above  the  shrubs  should 
tower  some  large  trees  to  emphasize  the  effect  of  coming 
on  to  the  structure.  Sometimes  Lombardy  poplars  in 
clusters  are  effective  in  such  places.  The  bridge  should 
emerge  from  the  foliage  with  a  certain  distinction  and 


292  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

yet  not  obtrusively.  The  exact  point  of  the  course  of 
the  stream  or  arm  of  lake  chosen  for  the  location  of  the 
bridge  should  be  carefully  selected  and  the  height  and 
conspicuousness  of  the  bridge  adjusted  to  the  landscape. 
Thomas  Whately  has  written  perhaps  better  than  any 
one  else  on  these  and  other  points  in  relation  to  bridges : 

"The  form  of  a  lake,  on  the  contrary,  intimates 
that  all  the  several  shores  are,  by  making  a  certain 
circuit,  accessible.  Bridges  therefore  are  inconsistent 
with  the  nature  of  a  lake,  but  characteristic  of  a  river: 
they  are  on  that  account  used  to  disguise  a  termina- 
tion; but  the  deception  has  been  so  often  practised, 
that  it  no  longer  deceives;  and  a  bolder  aim  at  the 
same  effect  will  now  be  more  successful.  If  the  end 
can  be  turned  just  out  of  sight,  a  bridge  at  some  dis- 
tance raises  a  belief,  while  the  water  beyond  it  re- 
moves every  doubt  of  the  continuation  of  the  river, 
and  the  supposition  immediately  occurs,  that  if  a  dis- 
guise had  been  intended  the  bridge  would  have  been 
placed  farther  back,  and  the  disregard  thus  shown  to 
one  deception  gains  credence  for  the  other. 

"To  give  bridges  their  full  effect,  the  connexion 
between  them  and  the  river  must  be  attended  to: 
from  the  want  of  it,  the  single  wooden  arch,  now 
much  in  fashion,  seems  to  us  generally  misplaced. 
Elevated  without  occasion  so  much  above,  it  is  totally 
detached  from  the  river;  it  is  often  seen  straddling  in 
the  air,  without  a  glimpse  of  the  water  to  account  for 
it;  and  the  ostentation  of  it  as  an  ornamental  object 


u 


£  a 

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t-3  tfl 

O  -»e 

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public  parfes  293 

diverts  all  the  train  of  ideas  which  its  use  as  a  com- 
munication might  suggest.  The  vastness  of  Walton 
Bridge  cannot  without  affectation  be  mimicked  in  a 
garden,  where  the  magnificent  idea  of  including  the 
Thames  under  one  arch  is  wanting,  and  where  the 
structure  itself,  reduced  to  a  narrow  scale,  retains  no 
pretension  to  greatness.  Unless  the  situation  makes 
such  a  height  necessary;  or  the  point  of  view  be 
greatly  above  it,  or  wood  or  rising  ground,  instead 
of  sky  behind  it,  fill  up  the  vacancy  of  the  arch,  it 
seems  an  effort  without  a  cause,  forced  and  prepos- 
terous. 

"A  gentle  rise  and  easy  sweep  more  closely  preserve 
the  relation.  A  certain  degree  of  union  should  also 
exist  between  the  banks  and  the  bridge  that  it  may 
seem  to  rise  out  of  the  banks,  and  not  barely  to  be  im- 
posed upon  them.  It  ought  generally  to  swell  much 
above  their  level;  the  parapet  wall  should  be  brought 
down  near  to  the  ground,  or  end  against  some  swell, 
and  the  size  and  the  uniformity  of  the  abutments 
should  be  broken  by  hillocks  or  thickets  about  them : 
— every  expedient  should  be  used  to  mark  the  connex- 
ion of  the  bridge  both  with  the  ground  from  which  it 
starts,  and  the  water  which  it  crosses."1 

•  The  two  views  of  the  Boulder  or  Huddlestone  Bridge 
should  perhaps  have  been  included  in  the  chapter  on 
Rocks,  but  they  are  so  characteristic  of  the  rugged  wild 
scenery  of  the  part  of  Central  Park  where  they  have 

1  Thomas  Whately,  Observations  on  Modern  Gardening. 


294  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

been  employed  that  they  have  been  used  as  illustrations 
of  a  park  feature. 

With  the  exception  of  the  rough  archaic  arch  that 
forms  the  bridge,  the  whole  picture  of  its  south  side 
might  be  that  of  a  cataclysm  of  nature.  If  the  illus- 
trations are  carefully  examined  it  will  be  seen  that  before 
bringing  these  stones  together  there  has  been  careful 
study  given  to  their  selection  and  the  way  they  would 
naturally  come  together  under  the  impelling  force  of  the 
elements  brought  to  bear  on  them  year  after  year. 

But  there  are  other  features  pertaining  to  a  park  or 
an  estate  that  are  more  evidently  accessories  and  there- 
fore need  intelligent  adjustment,  or,  in  some  cases,  for 
various  reasons,  abandonment. 

The  names  of  these  features  are  numerous;  a  few  of 
them  are  statues,  busts,  memorials  of  all  kinds  including 
tablets  let  into  the  rock,  museums,  libraries,  bandstands 
of  a  permanent  character,  stadiums,  restaurants  (no 
strong  liquors  should  be  sold  in  a  park  on  account  of 
the  women  and  children  if  for  no  other  reason),  merry- 
go-rounds,  playgrounds,  games  of  all  kinds. 

These  things  mar  the  harmony  and  injure  the  turf 
and  produce  a  disturbance  of  the  mind  that  lessens  the 
pastoral  and  other  sylvan  charms  of  the  park.  It  should 
be  remembered  also  that  important  as  it  is  that  children 
should  have  all  reasonable  opportunity  to  amuse  them- 
selves in  the  park,  yet  as  there  are  adults  as  well  as 
young  people  who  have  the  right  to  enjoy  the  scenery, 
their  "due  and  privilege"  should  not  be  neglected. 
The  remedy  for  the  temptation  to  overcrowd  the  park 


public  iparfes  295 

with  games  for  children  and  adults  is  the  construction 
elsewhere  of  children's  playgrounds  and  athletic  fields 
on  special  reservations  of  their  own.  This  has  been 
done  in  Brooklyn,  New  York,  with  great  success,  en- 
tirely outside  of  the  boundaries  of  Prospect  Park. 

Every  one  of  the  objects  named,  with  many  things  of 
a  similar  type,  should  be  barred  from  the  park.  If  it 
were  found  absolutely  necessary  to  have  any  such 
structures  in  the  park,  they  might  better  be  placed 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  ground  in  a  subterranean 
hall. 

It  may  be  conceded  that  there  is  another  class  of 
artificial  structures  that  should  find  a  place  in  the  park, 
and  that  is  architecture  on  the  borders.  A  wall  or  fence 
or  some  boundary  treatment  should  surround  every 
park.  A  park  boundary  barrier,  however,  should  have  a 
simple,  unobtrusive  character  and  be  made  as  low  as 
safety  will  permit,  but  to  preserve  this  character  no 
special  ornaments,  such  as  statues  or  urns,  should  be 
inserted  in  the  wall:  a  plain  tablet  with  names  carved  on 
it  might  appear  just  at  or  about  the  entrance.  On  the 
plazas  opposite  the  park  entrances,  fountains,  statues, 
and  other  architectural  and  sculptural  structures  may 
properly  find  a  place  if  they  are  not  allowed  to  dominate 
the  neighbouring  park  scenery.  Gates  and  architectural 
adornment  of  the  actual  park  entrances  are  not  likely 
to  be  altogether  satisfactory,  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
have  hardly  ever  been  designed  successfully.  Unless 
the  architecture  is  extremely  modest,  it  will  insist  on 
imposing  too  dominant  and  alien  an  influence  for  the 


296  3Lanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

poetic  or  pastoral  character  which  should  be  evident  in 
the  park,  even  from  outside  of  the  entrance. 

The  question  of  museums  in  the  park  is  discussed  by 
Park  Commissioner  W.  A.  Stiles,  one  of  the  most  en- 
lightened officials  who  has  ever  written  on  the  subject: 

"All  this  (employment  of  museums)  is  very  attrac- 
tive, and  not  impracticable.     But  when  Mr.  H 

declares  that  a  public  park  does  not  fulfil  its  highest 
function  until  it  develops  into  a  vast  and  multi- 
tudinous museum  for  popular  instruction  he  plainly 
ignores  the  specific  purpose  for  which  pleasure 
grounds  like  Central  Park  have  been  created.  Indeed 

one  may  read  Mr.  H 's  article  attentively  and  fail 

to  discover  whether  he  has  ever  cared  to  inform  him- 
self precisely  what  that  purpose  is.  The  fact  is  that 
in  popular  language  there  is  no  well-defined  group  of 
ideas  suggested  by  the  word  park,  and  it  is  applied  to 
areas  of  ground  which  are  used  for  the  most  varied 
and  incongruous  purposes.  To  one  man  it  means  a 
baseball  field,  to  another  a  military  parade  ground,  to 
a  third  a  place  where  race  horses  are  used  to  facilitate 
gambling.  Indeed  the  danger  of  the  assaults  on  the 
integrity  of  city  parks  is  constant  because  of  the  lack 
of  clear  popular  conception  of  their  true  functions, 
and  they  never  will  be  safe  from  attacks  until  their 
primary  purpose  is  universally  understood,  and  until 
this  purpose  is  admitted  to  be  of  sufficient  importance 
to  justify  their  existence  and  maintenance."1 

1  Garden  and  Forest,  vol.  ii.,  May  2,  1891, 


public  iparfes  297 

Again  the  same  author  says: 

"  Scenery  of  a  purely  pastoral  character  is  no  doubt 
the  most  valuable  element  of  a  park  within  the  limits 
of  a  great  city  like  New  York,  for  no  stronger  contrast 
to  the  constrained  and  artificial  conditions  of  urban 
life  can  be  imagined  than  meadow-like  stretches  of 
greensward  which  are  not  fenced  in  by  rigid  bounda- 
ries but  fade  away  in  obscure  and  shadowy  distance. 
Broad  open  landscapes  with  spacious  skies,  and  the 
sense  of  enlargement  and  freedom  which  they  bring, 
offer  the  most  pleasing  contrasts  to  the  hard  confine- 
ment of  city  streets  with  their  skyline  of  roofs  and 
chimneys;  the  tranquillizing  influence  of  soft,  smooth, 
grassy  surfaces  is  an  unfailing  refreshment  from  the 
wear  and  weariness,  the  strain  and  pressure  of  city 
life,  with  its  strenuous  effort  and  consuming  ambition. 
The  designers  of  Central  Park  plainly  endeavoured 
to  embody  as  much  as  possible  within  their  limita- 
tions, and  in  a  dignified  way  without  resorting  to 
affectations  and  deceptions,  the  quiet,  pastoral  idea. 
Within  the  narrow  area  of  the  park  the  broadest  scope 
of  open  meadow  that  could  be  secured  was  consider- 
ably less  than  thirty  acres.  But  the  bordering  woods 
were  so  depressed  as  to  leave  the  boundaries  uncer- 
tain and  mysterious,  and  the  turf  was  made  to  flow 
into  sunny  alcoves  and  about  promontories  of  foliage 
until  it  was  lost  in  hazy  shadows  which  suggested  in- 
definite extent  of  the  same  restful  scenery.  The  view 
shown  [see  p.  197]  is  taken  from  a  point  overlooking  the 


298  OLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

north  meadow  near  looth  Street  on  the  west  side. 
The  glimpse  of  distant  turf  seen  under  the  branches  of 
the  group  of  trees  in  the  centre  of  the  opening  in  the 
wood  border  on  the  left,  the  skyline  of  trees  in  the  dis- 
tance, all  suggest  to  the  imagination  a  limitless  extent 
of  similar  rural  conditions.  No  object  meets  the  eye 
of  the  observer  to  indicate  that  there  is  anything  be- 
yond but  green  pastures  and  tree-flecked  meadows. "  x 

This  is  a  most  beautiful  and  true  description  of  a 
public  park  as  it  should  be  and  continue  to  be,  and  no 
museum  or  similar  alien  structure  should  be  allowed  a 
place  within  its  bounds. 

In  connexion  with  the  subject  of  parks,  the  impor- 
tance of  civic  planning  naturally  suggests  itself.  A  park 
is,  in  reality,  only  a  part  of  a  civic  scheme  which  should 
have  a  wide  extension  and  give  attention  to  all  of  the 
spiritual,  mental,  and  physical  needs  of  a  community 
in  the  largest  sense  of  the  term.  A  city  is  like  a  body 
and  its  members.  Each  part  has  a  definite  relation  to 
the  others  and  a  distinct  function  of  its  own  to  perform. 
In  its  truest  sense,  it  is  an  organism  that  necessitates  a 
constant  interplay  of  functions  of  various  kinds.  The 
park  exercises  one  of  these  functions,  while  the  streets, 
squares,  circles,  and  other  features  possessing  use  or 
beauty  are  other  members  that  contribute  to  the  enjoy- 
ment and  well-being  of  the  community.  This  adjust- 
ment of  the  existing  conditions  to  the  various  uses  of  the 
community  should  be  so  managed  as  to  recognize  the 

1  Garden  and  Forest,  vol.  i.,  May  9,  1888. 


public  parfes  299 

valuable  legacy  of  the  past,  to  recognize  the  needs  of 
the  present  and  the  immediate  future  and  something  of 
the  potentiality  of  a  more  distant  time  and  circumstance. 
Perhaps  the  retention  of  the  valuable  features  is  the 
most  important  because  it  has  a  definite  and  deter- 
minable  value  about  which  there  can  be  no  mistake. 
Let  us  not,  therefore,  lose  our  hold  on  the  past  when  we 
study  our  civic  designs.  Moreover,  while  modifications 
will  naturally  suggest  themselves  in  view  of  changed 
conditions  and  requirements,  there  will  still  be  the 
possibility  of  retaining  much  of  the  old  features  in 
conjunction  with  the  new,  combined  together  in  one 
unified  whole.  The  difficulty  with  many  city  planning 
designs  is  that  they  are  not  sufficiently  conservative 
of  the  old  and  valuable  conditions  already  existing  and 
show  often  indications  of  a  willingness  to  let  go  too 
readily  old-time  features.  There  are,  likewise,  various 
dominant  ideas  of  even  contradictory  characteristics 
which  should  pervade  the  whole  city  plan  and  co-oper- 
ate together  to  make  an  ideal  extension  of  the  lives  of 
individuals.  It  should  be  remembered  that  "men  do 
not  form  a  community  .  .  .  merely  in  so  far  as  the  men 
co-operate.  They  form  a  community  .  .  .  when  they 
not  only  co-operate,  but  accompany  this  co-operation 
with  the  ideal  extension  of  the  lives  of  individuals  where- 
by each  co-operating  member  says,  *  This  activity  which 
we  perform  together,  this  work  of  ours,  its  past,  its 
future,  its  sequence,  its  order,  its  sense, — all  these  enter 
into  my  life,  and  are  the  life  of  my  own  self  writ  large/  " * 
xjosiah  Royce. 


300  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttectute 

Dr.  Harald  Hoffding  thus  expresses  the  idea  of  how 
feeling  acts  in  passing  from  the  old  to  the  new,  which 
always,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  contains  more  or 
less  of  the  old:  "The  stream  of  feeling,"  he  says,  "is  in 
general  reluctant  to  quit  the  bed  that  it  has  worked 
for  itself.  It  has  accommodated  itself  to  the  traditional 
ideas,  and  a  time  of  unrest  and  discord  must  be  passed 
through  before  it  can  reaccommodate  itself  to  the  new 
ideas.  During  such  a  time  of  transition,  the  two  streams 
of  feeling,  the  one  tending  to  flow  on  in  the  old  bed, 
the  other  to  expand,  have  a  hard  struggle  with  one 
another.  Or,  to  express  it  more  correctly,  the  tendency 
of  the  old  feeling  to  spread  itself  over  and  colour  the 
whole  of  consciousness  struggles  against  the  same 
tendency  on  the  part  of  the  new  feeling,  for  the  feelings 
that  are  bound  up  with  tradition  have  also  an  expansive 
tendency  and  will  always  try,  if  they  cannot  altogether 
crowd  out  the  new  feeling,  at  any  rate  to  colour  and 
transform  it ;  in  extreme  cases,  where  they  can  maintain 
themselves  in  no  other  way,  the  old  ideas  become  trans- 
formed in  correspondence  with  the  new." 

These  remarks,  although  they  are  intended  to  apply 
specially  to  the  feelings  of  an  individual,  have  an  even 
greater  force  when  predicated  of  a  community.  For 
instance,  the  park  idea  of  pastoral  restfulness,  an  old 
one,  should  be  extended  and  transformed  in  a  new  way 
from  the  park  to  the  sidewalk  and  street  by  means  of 
intervals  of  grass  space  between  trees  and  shrubs  all 
skilfully  associated  together.  This  park  idea  should  be 
further  extended  to  the  lawns  and  dooryards  of  citizens, 


public  parfcs  301 

and  a  certain  amount  of  formality  and  regard  for  con- 
venience should,  on  the  other  hand,  reach  over  from 
the  street  designs  to  that  of  the  park  as  well  as  the  lawn 
and  dooryard.  It  should  not  be  confusing  to  speak  of  a 
whole  city  as  an  actual  park,  or  of  a  great  park  as,  in  a 
perfectly  legitimate  sense,  the  abode  of  a  community, 
that  is  a  city  developed  on  comprehensive  lines.  The 
city  planner,  therefore,  should  make  his  standpoint  of 
design  that  of  the  community  and  thus  evolve  a  com- 
prehensive plan  that  allows  due  regard  to  the  limitations 
of  the  place  and  of  the  residents.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  formality,  as  understood  in  common  parlance,  is 
required  for  its  distinctly  human  quality  to  take  its 
proper  place  in  the  park  and  on  the  street  and  in  the 
city  lawn  or  yard.  The  park  idea  should  pervade  the 
city  everywhere  throughout  its  streets,  and  particularly 
around  its  residences  and  public  buildings.  In  other 
words,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  repeat  the  same  idea  in 
other  words,  a  city  should  be  looked  upon,  if  ideally 
laid  out,  as  a  great  public  park  in  which  a  community 
is  to  live  and  move  and  have  its  being. 

The  city  planner,  therefore,  should  make  his  stand- 
point of  design  that  of  the  community  and  thus  evolve 
for  his  city  a  unified  artistic  creation  realizing  the  ideal 
of  both  the  architect  and  landscape  architect.  In  order 
to  illustrate  the  application  of  these  ideas  I  will  venture 
to  refer  to  a  plan  for  redesigning  an  important  part  of 
the  city  of  Washington  made  in  1900  for  the  Chief 
Engineer  of  the  United  States  and  submitted  to  the 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives  by  the  Secre- 


302  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

tary  of  War. J  The  region  tinder  consideration  in  this 
plan  as  designated  by  the  Act  of  Congress  includes 
that  section  of  the  District  of  Columbia  situated 
between  B  Street  S.  W.,  the  Capitol,  Pennsylvania  and 
Delaware  Avenues,  and  requires  a  connexion  with  the 
Zoological  Park.  It  should  be  specially  noticed  in  this 
plan  that  the  original  design  of  Major  L'Enfant  made 
one  hundred  years  ago  has  been  treated  with  due  respect. 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  and  all  the  boundary  streets  have 
been  retained  in  exact  accordance  with  the  original 
design.  Like  L'Enfant's  design  also  the  main  treat- 
ment of  drives  and  lawns  is  kept  on  the  axis  of  the 
Capitol  and  Washington  Monument.  Moreover,  by 
setting  apart  the  Botanical  Garden  and  the  grounds  of 
the  Smithsonian  Institute  and  the  Agricultural  De- 
partment and  the  space  around  the  White  House,  an 
actual  park  in  the  heart  of  Washington  has  been  already 
secured.  The  design  under  consideration  seeks  as  far  as 
possible  to  retain  and  improve  all  this  highly  developed 
and  desirable  park  effect  and  also  seeks  to  enlarge  and 
complete  it  by  purchasing  the  necessary  land  to  extend 
it  to  Pennsylvania  Avenue  and  Delaware  Avenue. 
Very  few  cities  in  the  world  have  such  a  park  develop- 
ment as  already  exists  in  the  Washington  of  the  present 
day,  which  is  much  of  it  in  a  peculiar  degree  really  the 
Washington  of  the  past  and  of  L'Enfant's  creation. 
The  essential  and  underlying  idea  of  the  plan  in  question 
is  that  in  place  of  a  park  crisscrossed  by  traffic  streets 

1  The  preparation  of  this  plan  was  awarded  to  Samuel  Parsons  in  1900 
by  the  Chief  Engineer  of  the  United  States. 


The  Plan  of  Park  Treatment  of  the  Territory  Situated  between  the  Capitol  Ground 

From  t 


tashington  Monument  and  Pennsylvania  and  Delaware  Avenues,  Washington,  D.  C. 
esign. 


public  parfes  303 

and  obstructed  here  and  there  by  an  inferior  class  of 
houses,  the  plan  proposes  to  retain  the  half  dozen 
important  public  buildings  existing  and  lay  out  the 
grounds  around  them,  or  in  other  words  park  them. 
Broad  lawns  are  arranged  for  pastoral  effects  and  trees 
and  shrubs  are  clustered  along  the  paths  and  drives  and 
on  the  borders  of  the  lawns,  and  a  series  of  longitudinal 
elliptical  grass  spaces  leads  the  eye  of  any  one  stand- 
ing in  front  of  the  Capitol  down  over  a  vista  of  green 
lawns  to  the  Washington  Monument. 

By  the  employment  of  bridges  over  the  transverse 
streets  the  entire  territory  of  park  space  is  brought  into 
one  unified  whole,  a  park  unit  and  yet  correlated  in  the 
most  intimate  way  with  the  neighbouring  city.  It  is 
intended  that  the  bridges  shall  be  so  screened  and 
planted  in  the  manner  of  those  of  Central  Park,  New 
York,  that  the  sense  of  the  close  neighbourhood  of  the 
city  shall  not  be  appreciably  felt  as  one  wanders  through 
the  park.  It  is  also  proposed  that  in  future  all  public 
buildings  for  the  United  States  or  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia that  may  be  erected  here  shall  be  kept  strictly  out 
of  the  main  area  of  the  park,  and  disposed  along  the  bor- 
ders of  Pennsylvania  and  Delaware  Avenues.  It  is  not 
claimed  that  this  arrangement  of  a  great  park  in  the 
heart  of  Washington  City  is  entirely  ideal,  but  simply 
that  it  does  recognize  and  treat  with  due  respect  the 
original  plan  of  L' Enfant,  taking  in  consideration  the 
needs  and  tastes  of  the  present  and  future  generations. 
Moreover,  it  may  be  said  also  that  the  admirable  system 
of  tree  planting  adopted  long  years  ago  on  the  streets  of 


304  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

Washington  has  given  the  city  the  appearance  of  a 
somewhat  formal  park,  and  this  feature  with  the  con- 
siderable lawns  and  dooryards  of  the  citizens  adorned 
with  grass  and  shrubs  and  flowers  helps  to  extend  the 
park  idea. 

The  main  and  most  important  principle,  therefore,  of 
city  planning,  to  repeat  in  another  form  what  has  been 
already  discussed,  is  for  both  architect  and  landscape 
architect  to  remember  that,  in  the  case  of  such  work, 
they  are  designing  for  a  community  of  various  members 
having  various  needs  and  desires,  and  that  they  should 
always  consider  well  traditions  and  peculiar  inherited 
conditions.  They  should  not  design  for  individuals,  or 
even  groups  of  individuals,  but  for  the  whole  community 
understood  in  the  broadest  and  best  sense  of  the  term. 


XVI 

CHOICE  TREES  AND  SHRUBS 

ALTHOUGH  it  may  seem  to  be  a  truism  the 
reiteration  of  which  is  hardly  necessary,  it  is 
well  to  keep  in  mind  from  the  very  start  in 
this  chapter  that  the  problem  of  the  proper  use  of  plants 
varies  with  every  spot  where  work  is  undertaken,  and 
that  the  hardiness  of  trees  and  shrubs  and  fertility  of 
soils  will  always  be  found  relative  to  varying  conditions. 

Having  emphasized  these  limitations,  it  has  been 
deemed  a  good  idea  to  bring  together  some  notes  on 
the  peculiarities  of  certain  choice  trees  and  shrubs  and 
flowers  and  suggestions  as  to  their  treatment.  In 
doing  this,  ideas  and  facts  may  be  set  forth  which 
will  be  familiar  to  many  and  yet  it  is  believed  they  may 
possess  a  decided  value  for  others. 

It  is  important,  first  of  all,  to  warn  lawn  planters  not 
to  make  a  museum  of  their  lawns.  Many  trees  and 
shrubs,  and  particularly  perennials,  or  wild  flowers, 
are  interesting  botanically  and  horticulturally,  and 
yet  do  not  count  for  much  in  the  landscape  picture, 
and  are  not  specially  controlling  in  the  general  effect. 
They,  of  course,  may  be  used  in  their  proper  place  duly 
*°  305 


3o6  Olan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

related  to  their  more  important  neighbours,  but  to  have 
too  many  of  them,  or  to  locate  them  improperly,  works 
often  great  injury  to  the  picture  and  mars,  in  various 
ways,  its  harmony.  The  following  remarks,  therefore, 
will  bear  chiefly  on  this  fitness  of  a  plant  for  a  landscape 
picture  both  in  appearance  and  general  habit. 

To  follow  the  seasons  and  make  each  one  interesting 
as  it  comes  forward  in  turn  will  always  have  much 
value  for  many  people.  One  of  the  earliest  things  to 
come  in  leaf  and  flower  is  the  willow,  and  as  a  lawn 
plant  it  has  many  good  qualities!  It  will  live  and 
thrive  in  almost  any  soil,  especially  a  wet  one.  The 
fresh-looking  flowers  it  bears  in  early  spring  are  always 
a  kind  of  revelation  or  forestate  of  good  things  to  come. 
Not  all  willows  are  of  equal  value  in  lawn  planting 
although  there  are  numerous  species  and  varieties. 
The  difficulty  with  the  willows  is  that  they  are  liable 
to  become  naked  and  bare  of  foliage  as  they  grow  older, 
and  like  most  soft  wooded  trees  their  beauty  is  apt  to  be 
short  lived.  One  of  the  best  willows  for  its  retention 
of  beauty,  bushiness,  and  general  health  is  the  common 
white  willow,  SaMx  alba.  It  is  superior  for  this  reason 
to  the  red-stemmed  willow  and  theyellow,  S^l 
aurea,  and  especially  the  weeping  willow,  Salix 
lonica.  The  latter  grows  often  into  a  fine  tree  with 
great  spreading  branches,  but  it  is  brittle  and  suffers 
much  from  ice  storms,  which,  helped  by  windstorms, 
generally  succeed  eventually  in  destroying  it.  There 
seems  to  be  little  reason  for  using  this  willow  along 
watersides.  Its  drooping  habit  is  not  specially  attrac- 


Cbotce  Urees  ant)  Sbrubs  307 

tive,  being  stringy  and  wanting  in  fulness.  It  is 
generally  considered  a  sad-looking  tree,  suitable  for 
graveyards  and  pools  of  water,  why  it  would  be  hard 
to  explain.  The  pussy  willow  (Salix  capred)  is  a  fine 
bushy  kind.  It  is  important  to  remember  that  the 
members  of  the  willow  family  need  pruning  strongly  in 
order  to  keep  them  in  good  shape. 

Other  rapid-growing  trees  for  the  spring  lawn  are 
poplars,  the  oriental  plane  tree,  alders,  birches,  and  the 
forsythias,  jortuni^BxA  viridissima.  The  latter  kinds 
are  excellent  shrubs,  blooming  early  with  abundant 
yellow  flowers  and  keeping  a  rich,  compact,  and  in  the 
case  of  Forsythia  viridissima  a  graceful  foliage  through- 
out the  summer  and  autumn.  The  viridissima  looks 
well  on  the  borders  of  shrub  groups,  because  its  branches 
droop  close  to  the  ground.  There  is  another  shrub, 
Berberis  thunbergi,  that  is  compact,  of  vigorous  growth, 
and  fine  throughout  the  season  with  its  glossy  foliage, 
summer  flowers,  and  autumn  colour.  It  is  one  of  the 
best  shrubs  for  the  lawn.  Its  relative,  the  common 
barberry,  is  also  an  excellent  shrub,  fine  in  masses  with 
its  bright  flowers  and  fruit.  The  Spircea  thunbergi  is 
perhaps  the  prettiest  of  spiraeas  with  its  light-coloured 
graceful  foliage,  early  white  flowers  in  great  masses, 
and  its  lovely  autumn  colour. 

The  horse-chestnut  is  fine  in  May  with  its  fresh 
green  foliage  and  large  white  or  red  trusses  of  bloom, 
but  later  on  in  July  it  is  apt  to  lose  its  leaves  and  look 
forlorn  for  the  rest  of  the  season.  Hawthorns  belong 
to  spring,  and  the  most  celebrated  and  beautiful  in 


3o8  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

flower  is  the  English  variety  (Grata gus  oxycaniha)  with 
its  white  or  scarlet  flowers,  but  this  species  is  liable 
to  blight  in  America  and  does  not  equal  in  beauty  of 
foliage  and  size  and  brilliancy  of  fruit  the  numerous 
American  species  among  which  are  the  well-known 
cockspur  (Cms  galli)  and  ^occinea  kinds.  These 
thorns  are  gems  of  beauty  and  of  varied  individuality ; 
no  soil  or  exposure  seems  too  adverse  for  them.  San 
Jose  scale  is  an  insect  pest  that  troubles  the  American 
hawthorns  as  well  as  the  English,  but  a  little  care 
will  readily  conquer  it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
Japan  quince  and  the  flowering  apple  and  peach  and 
plum  and  almond.  They  are  all  most  lovely  in  spring 
but  are  all  liable  to  San  Jose  scale. 

Magnolias  make  one  of  the  choicest  denizens  of  the 
lawn  but  are  hard  to  transplant.  One  of  the  sights  of 
Central  Park,  New  York,  is  a  large  tree,  a  Chinese 
magnolia  (M.  conspicua),  a  perfect  cloud  of  white 
bloom,  with  as  yet  no  leaves,  in  the  midst  of  a  snow- 
storm in  April. 

But  after  spring  come  the  summer  effects,  which 
really  commence  in  May  and  linger  on  through  the  first 
and  second  weeks  of  June  and  later.  This  is  the  season 
of  roses  and  with  a  little  care  they  are  beautiful,  but 
with  pruning  at  frequent  intervals  and  also  cultivating 
with  plenty  of  manure  and  mulch,  making  a  light  mellow 
soil  containing  plenty  of  humus,  they  are  unsurpassed 
for  beauty.  There  are  the  climbing  Wichufiana  hybrids 
on  the  wall  in  mid- June  and  the  regular  June  roses 
blooming  freely  once  only  such  as  the  General  Jacque- 


Gbotce  ZTrees  anfc  Sbrubs  309 

minot^  and  similar  kinds,  and  last  and  most  important 
the  ever-blooming  roses,  the  hybrid  teas,  which  flower 
repeatedly  in  the  utmost  profusion  all  summer  until 
frost.  A  bed  of  these  hybrid  tea  roses  properly 
managed  is  a  wonderful  sight. 

There  is  another  summer  rose  blooming  in  late  June 
and  July,  the  prairie  rose  (R.  setigera),  already  men- 
tioned, that  is  very  lovely  in  flower  with  small  pink  and 
white  petals  hanging  in  clusters.  It  is  comparatively 
free  from  disease  and  grows  to  great  size  under  the  most 
unpropitious  circumstances.  The  Japan  rose  (R.  ru- 
gosa)  is  a  shrub  which  has  rich  green  foliage  and  large 
red  and  white  flowers,  and  thrives  on  the  seashore,  and 
in  autumn  has  large  red  fruit  like  small  apples.  It  needs 
to  be  sharply  pruned  every  year  to  keep  it  from  becom- 
ing ragged  and  devoid  of  leaves. 

If  a  general  consensus  of  opinion  were  obtained  among 
those  who  love  and  know  something  about  flowers,  I 
think  the  rhododendrons  would,  after  roses,  be  declared 
most  popular.  Their  rich  dark  evergreen  foliage  with 
red  and  purple  and  white  trusses  of  flowers  cannot  be 
surpassed  for  massive  and  impressive  beauty.  The 
rhododendron  is  king  of  flowers  as  the  rose  is  queen. 
Nevertheless  they  have  their  drawbacks,  especially  in 
this  climate.  Sometimes  the  spring  hot  suns  and  cold 
nights  brown  and  even  destroy  the  leaves.  Even 
then  the  plant  is  seldom  killed,  only  rendered  unsightly 
for  a  time,  and  retarded  in  its  growth.  Usually  it  will 
be  found  in  such  cases  that  it  has  been  weakened  by 
disease  or  drought.  A  few  of  the  best  kinds  that  have 


3io  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

proved  hardy  after  many  years  of  trial  are  as  follows: 
Abraham  Lincoln,  rosy  crimson,  Album  elegans ',  light 
blush  fading  white,  Boule  de  Neige,  white,  dwarf,  and 
very  hardy,  ^rosanfamneum,  blood  red,  Charles  Dickens, 
dark  scarlet,  Charles  S.  Sargent,  rich  crimson,  Charles 
Bagley,  cherry  red,  Everestianum,  rosy  lilac,  best  and 
hardiest  habit,  General  Grajit,  rosy  scarlet,  Kettledrum, 
rich  purplish  or  crimson,  bushy,  excellent  form,  and 
very  hardy,  Lady  Armstrong,  pale  rose,  Lee's  dark 
purple,  Mrs.  Mflner,  rich  crimson,  Old  Port,  rich  plum 
colour,  Purpureum  elegans,  Parsons  grandiflorum,  and 
Sefton,  dark  maroon.  There  are,  however,  others 
besides  these  kinds  that  are  desirable  for  hardiness  and 
beauty.  -^  <?*•>&  3>v. 

Of  the  lijibrid^tea^  the  eyer^lQjpmin^^rose^,  the 
following  varieties  ought  to  be  mentioned  as  reliable 
and  excellent,  namely:  Caroline  Testout,  bright  satiny 
rose,  Etoile  de  France,  velvety  crimson,  large  double, 
General  MacArthur ,  large  bright  crimson,  Grjiss^an^ 
Teplitz,  bright  rich  scarlet,  free  bloomer,  La  France, 
clear  silvery  pink,  large  and  full,  Madam  Abel  Chatenay, 
carmine  rose  shaded  with  salmon,  Madam  Jules  Grolez, 
bright  China  rose,  Madam  Cochet.  deep  rose  pink, 
beautiful  in  bud  and  flower,  Countess  of  Shaftesburyy 
silvery  carmine,  Juliet,  vermilion  red,  reverse  of  petals, 
old  gold,  Bessie  Brown,  creamy  white,  Tfe»gi>rm  ^ifiiigte 
Victoria,  cream  shaded  lemon,  Melanie  Soupert,  pale 
yellow,  suffused  carmine,  Duchess  of  Portland,  pale 
sulphur  yellow,  Richmond,  bright,  light  crimson,  Mil- 
dred  Grant,  creamy  white,  Dean  Hole,  pale  silvery  rose, 


Cbotce  TTrees  anfc  Sbrubs 

deeper  shaded  on  yellow  ground,  Arthur  R.  Goodwin, 
coppery  orange  red,  Chateau  de  Clos-Vougeot,  velvety 
scarlet,  Duchess  of  Wellington,  intense  saffron  yellow 
stained  with  crimson,  Edward  Mawley,  velvety  crim- 
son, Entente  Cordiale,  capucine  red  with  wide  yellow 
base,  and  Farben  Konigin,  imperial  pink  or  salmon 
pink. 

The  azaleas  are  a  charming  family  and  do  not  receive 
as  much  attention  as  they  deserve.  They  are,  more- 
over, hardy,  except  the  showy  Azalea  mollis  whose  un- 
satisfactory behaviour  after  cold  winters  has  given  the 
entire  family  a  bad  name.  The  colours  vary  between 
brick  red,  orange,  and  yellow  white,  while  rhododendrons 
show  white  and  purple  and  red  and  crimson,  having  a 
decidedly  different  key  of  colour.  There  are  many 
species  and  varieties  of  azaleas  but  the  best  of  them 
are  native  American  species,  especially  j4.  calendulacea 
or  Jutea,  and  the  A.  ponticum,  crossed  with  the  calen- 
didacea,  which  are  always  hardy  and  fine,  while  some  of 
the  varieties  containing  ponticum  alone  or  mixed  with 
tender  kinds  are  not  so  hardy.  These  azaleas  are  all 
deciduous.  Japan  has  given  us  some  good  kinds  such 
as  the  deciduous  form,  Azalea  ledefolia  narcissiftora  •: 
a  mauve  type  and  very  hardy,  and  the  evergreen  Azaha^ 
amoena  with  glossy  foliage  and  masses  of  deep  red 
small  flowers.  The  last  is  very  beautiful,  but  occasion- 
ally it  is  touched  with  frost,  though  rarely  killed. 
Azalea  kaempferi  is  hardy  and  bears  a  fine  red  flower. 
The  deciduous  azaleas  look  well  in  the  woods  in  nooks  j 
and  corners  where  the  shade  is  not  too  deep.  Rho-  , 


312  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

dodendrons  like  similar  places  and  in  fact  should  be 
planted  underneath  or  with  a  background  of  trees. 
If  the  trees  are  planted  at  the  same  time  as  the  rhodo- 
dendrons or  azaleas  the  latter  will  do  well,  because 
everything  can  then  grow  up  together.  To  plant  them 
under  old  trees  in  dense  shade  where  roots  already 
occupy  the  ground  and  take  up  the  moisture  and  fertil- 
ity and  to  expect  them  to  thrive  is  asking  too  much  of 
any  plant.  The  best  soil  for  rhododendrons  and 
azaleas  is  mellow  loam  with  plenty  of  humus  in  it  to 
retain  moisture  and  lend  fertility.  If  the  soil  is  sandy 
with  hard-pan,  it  should  be  well  cultivated  and  some 
soil  richer  in  clay  and  humus  added  to  it;  if  it  is  a  stiff 
clay  it  will  doubtless  need  a  good  deal  of  sand.  To  the 
improper  preparation  of  the  soil  of  rhododendron  and 
azalea  beds  may  be  attributed  much  of  the  failure  of 
the  plants. 

Of  all  the  members  of  the  rhododendron  family 
the  best  in  the  judgment  of  high  authorities  is  the 
Kalmia  latifolia,  commonly  called  the  mountain  laurel. 
The  splendid  mass  of  the  pinkish  white  flowers  with  the 
evergreen  foliage  make  a  most  impressive  combination ; 
and  the  formation  of  the  flower  and  the  truss  has  an 
exquisite  finish  and  elegance  that  should  not  be  over- 
looked, and  the  colouring  is  delicate  and  lovely.  There 
is  nothing  of  its  kind  quite  equal  to  the  sight  at  the 
great  Arnold  Arboretum  near  Boston  where  thousands 
of  kalmias  or  mountain  laurels  cluster  in  a  glade  and 
run  up  among  the  trees  of  a  great  hemlock-covered 
hillside. 


§  -§ 


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Gboice  Utees  anb  Sbrubs  313 

There  are  many  kinds  of  evergreen-leaved  shrubs 
described  in  nurserymen's  catalogues  that  are  hardly 
to  be  depended  on  except  in  favourably  situated  spots, 
spots  that  are  really  quite  difficult  to  find.  In  this 
country,  evergreen  trees  and  shrubs  do  not,  as  a  rule, 
thrive  as  well  as  in  England  or  in  many  parts  of  the 
Continent;  but  on  the  other  hand,  deciduous  trees  and 
shrubs  thrive  better  here  than  in  Europe.  The  decid- 
uous shrubs  bloom  more  freely  and  many  trees  and 
shrubs  grow  with  more  vigour  and  persistence,  soil  and 
other  conditions  being  equal.  We  have  been  prone  in 
the  past  to  model  our  horticulture  too  much  on  that  of 
Europe,  forgetting  how  different  the  conditions  are  here 
from  those  abroad. 

The  glory  of  June  and  summer  is  the  purple  and 
golden  leaved  tree.  The  purple  beeches,  the  purple 
maples,  the  golden  oaks,  the  many-coloured  Japanese 
maples,  one  type  of  which  is  well  named  polymorphum 
— all  of  these  plants  are  rich  and  glowing  with  colour 
and  their  beauty  on  the  lawn  cannot  be  denied.  Some 
abnormally  coloured  leaved  trees  have  been  referred 
to  in  the  chapter  on  Plantations.  These  naturally 
need  avoiding.  The  most  delicate  and  charming  of 
all  summer  or  spring  trees,  the  white  birch,  should  be 
considered  here  in  more  detail.  Its  beauty  is  not  easy 
to  establish.  The  transplanting  is  difficult  and  can 
only  be  done  successfully  at  one  season  of  the  year, 
unless  by  chance,  namely  in  April  just  as  the  young 
leaves  are  pushing  out.  Even  then  it  is  necessary  for 
success  that  the  birch  be  young  and  recently  trans- 


314  OLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

planted  so  that  it  may  have  plenty  of  fibrous  roots. 
The  weeping  cut-leaved  form  is  the  best  variety  for 
the  lawn,  its  stem  is  so  white. 

June  is  the  month  of  flowers.  Later  in  midsummer, 
few  blooms  appear.  There  are  the  scarlet  rambler 
roses  and  Rosa  setigera  or  the  prairie  rose,  and  at  this 
season,  also,  blooms  one  of  the  finest  of  all  half  trees 
or  shrubs,  andromeda,  or  Oxydendron  arbareum,  the 
sorrel  tree.  Its  flowers  are  great  white  tassels  like  the 
plume  on  a  helmet  and  the  foliage  is  a  rich  glossy  green. 
It  grows  slowly  like  the  dogwood  at  first,  but  eventually 
it  attains  great  size.  This  recalls  the  fact  that  the  dog- 
woods have  not  been  noticed.  They  are  specially 
beautiful  in  summer  after  their  spring  bloom  has 
passed.  The  foliage  is  fine  and  so  are  the  branches, 
and  they  are  fine  at  any  age  even  when  a  ruin.  It  is  a 
fact,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  there  is  no  deciduous 
shrub  of  such  great,  as  well  as  lasting,  beauty  to  be 
found  on  the  lawn,  not  even  the  andromeda.  It  is, 
however,  shy  in  transplanting  and  takes  some  time  to 
establish  itself. 

There  is  after  all  so  much  personality  and  individual- 
ity in  plants  that  one  never  knows  how  to  take  them. 
They  develop  such  queer  freaks  and  odd  divergence 
from  ordinary  habits.  Dogwoods  form  an  instance  in 
point.  Sometimes  they  will  get  away  and  grow  at  once 
after  transplanting  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  are 
naturally  slow  in  starting,  so  much  so  that  dry  weather 
and  other  causes  kill  many  of  them  in  the  very  beginning. 
It  is  often  as  hard  to  diagnose  the  troubles  of  plants 


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Cboice  Urees  ant>  Sbrubs  315 

as  those  of  human  beings.  A  rhododendron  in  good 
health  usually  termed  hardy,  will  die  and  nearby  a  kind 
considered  tender  will  survive.  These  surprises  occur 
frequently  with  trees  and  shrubs  and  should  not  dis- 
courage any  one.  The  dogwood,  the  birch,  and  the 
rhododendron  are  notable  instances  of  the  vagaries  of 
plant  nature. 

The  Virgilia  lutea  (Cladrastis  tinctoria),  the  yellow- 
wood,  is  a  beautiful  tree  in  midsummer  with  its  smooth 
bark  like  a  beech  and  graceful  branches  bearing  long 
racemes  of  sweet-scented,  white  wistaria-like  flowers  in 
June.  Not  unlike  the  Virgilia  lutea,  especially  in  its 
leguminous  character,  is  the  laburnum  or  golden  chain. 
It  is  perfectly  hardy,  and  though  seldom  seen  in  this 
country,  is  a  favourite  in  Europe.  Francis  Thompson 
writes: 

Mark  yonder  how  the  long  laburnum  drips 
Its  jocund  spilth  of  fire,  its  honey  of  wild  flame. 

The  catalpa  has  some  good  qualities  for  summer 
besides  its  rapid  growth,  which  is  sometimes  an  injury 
to  it.  The  flowers  are  white  and  large  and  make  a 
show  in  June.  It  is  not  a  first-class  shade  tree  any 
more  than  the  silver  nffflyHf*T  poplar,  fl.i1antfaffi  (in  some 
respects  the  toughest  and  finest  of  trees,  barring  the 
odour),  the  wee-ping  willows,  and  the  American  ash. 
The  beech  is  the  shade  tree  par  excellence  for  the  lawn, 
but  not  for  the  street.  Its  unsurpassed  beauty  may 
not  be  gainsaid.  The  trunk  and  bark  are  wonderful, 
and  the  foliage  is  equally  fine,  especially  the  purple 


316  OLan&scape  Hrcbitecture 

variety.  A  beech  tree,  in  its  prime,  fifty  or  more  years 
old,  makes  a  feature  on  the  lawn  of  inestimable  value. 
Money  value  can  hardly  express  it.  Two  or  three  such 
specimens  will  make  an  otherwise  somewhat  ordinary 
place  a  great  and  distinguished  estate.  The  beeches  are 
hard  to  transplant  and  slow  of  growth  in  youth,  but  they 
are  well  worth  the  trouble  of  establishing.  The  Kolreu- 
teria  paniculata  (varnish  tree)  is  fine  in  summer, has  been 
long  known,  and  but  little  used.  Its  showy  panicles  of 
yellow  flowers  are  very  welcome  in  July  and  it  is  hardy. 
Of  all  native  trees  there  is  hardly  any  one  that  quite 
equals  the  tulip,.  To  hear  Henry  Ward  Beecher  praise 
it — for  he  knew  and  loved  trees — was  a  treat,  es- 
pecially to  hear  his  grand  voice  roll  out  with  sonorous 
accents  its  botanical  name,  Liriodendron  tulipifera. 
The  tulip  makes  a  lofty  tree  with  a  fine  stem  and  lovely 
foliage  both  in  shape  and  colour,  really  quite  curious  in 
its  way,  and  in  June  the  yellow  flowers  nestle  attractively 
among  the  leaves.  It  is  not  an  easy  tree  to  transplant, 
having  fleshy  roots  somewhat  like  the  magnolia:  it 
should  always  be  set  out  in  the  spring,  not  in  the  fall. 
The  oriental  plane  is  a  notable  tree  in  summer  with  its 
lofty  form  and  thick  spreading  foliage.  There  are 
more  beautiful  trees  but  few  that  endure  so  well  difficult 
conditions,  especially  in  cities,  or  that  grow  faster  and 
at  the  same  time  keep  their  beauty  better  in  mature 
years,  and  they  are  not,  moreover,  difficult  to  trans- 
plant. It  is  a  mistake  to  condemn  any  class  of  hardy 
trees,  for  they  all  have  their  value.  Even  poplars^  whose 
beauty  is  apt  to  be  short-lived  unless  skilfully  pruned, 


Cboice  Urees  anb  Sbrubs  317 

have  in  some  cases  a  decided  advantage  of  their  own. 
The  Lombardy  poplar,  or  better  still  the  white-stemmed 
form  (Populus  alba  Bolleana),  with  its  narrow  pyra- 
midal growth  has  a  distinct  value  for  its  colour  as  well 
as  shape  in  the  landscape,  rising  from  the  midst  of  other 
foliage.  Employed  as  it  often  is,  singly,  or  in  lines, 
alongside  a  building,  or  in  hedge  effects  bounding  a 
garden  or  roadway,  it  is  not  satisfactory.  The  lower 
portions  are,  doubtless,  apt  to  become  unsightly,  but 
a  little  pruning,  intelligently  and  occasionally  applied, 
will  enable  its  towering  form  to  show  out  from  the 
general  mass  of  foliage  on  the  lawn  for  many  years  in 
the  most  attractive  manner. 

Something  should  be  said  for  the  oaks,  for  much  can 
be  said  against  them  on  account  of  their  slow  growth 
and  generally  crooked  stems  and  tendency  to  failure 
in  transplanting.  All  this  may  be  said,  and  yet  after 
all  there  is  no  family  like  the  oaks.  They  are  kings 
among  northern  trees.  There  is  the  white  oak! 
What  is  there  among  trees  like  some  specimens  to  be 
seen  along  roadsides  throughout  the  country?  Summer 
and  autumn  and  winter  all  the  oaks  stand  for  the  very 
ideal  of  strength  and  beauty,  white  oak,  red  oak,  scarlet 
Qak,  pin  oak,  black  oak,  willow  oak.  They  should  be 
seen  to  appreciate  them,  for  instance  in  Flushing,  Long 
Island,  near  New  York,  the  home  of  fine  trees,  where 
some  of  the  avenues  are  lined  with  oaks.  Look  at  those 
great  pin  oaks  on  Bowne  Avenue,  fifty  or  sixty  feet  high, 
with  drooping  shining  foliage  and  trunks  like  masts  of 
a  ship  black  with  age. 


3i8  OLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

Another  great  tree  for  summer  is  the  linden,  the 
European  linden  in  its  various  forms;  the  American 
linden  or  the  basswood  being  a  much  inferior  tree. 
The  sweet-scented  flowers  and  the  deep  shadowing 
foliage  make  it  perhaps  the  most  grateful  shade  tree 
in  summer  except  the  beech  and  jMorway  maple.  The 
best  three  forms  are  the  yellowish  red  kinds  (Tilia 
dasy  stylo)  and  a  specially  drooping  form,  T. 


and  the  silver-leaved  linden  (T.  argentea  or  tomentosa), 
which  is  the  hardiest  and  most  distinct  of  all.  Nothing 
can  be  finer  however,  in  its  way,  than  a  large  tree  of 
the  old-fashioned  linden  (T1.  petiolaris).  It  should  be 
remembered  that  the  linden  will  not  bear  as  much 
hardship  as  the  Norway  maple  and  certain  other  kinds 
of  shade  trees.  The  silverjinden  is  the  hardiest  of  the 
family. 

What  shall  be  said  of  the  elms,  American  and  English, 
both  quite  distinct  in  appearance  as  though  they  were 
not  of  the  same  genus?  The  American  elm  with  its 
arching,  ^rothic  form  is  quite  familiar,  for  it  may  be 
seen  everywhere  in  America,  and  the  streets  of  the 
towns  and  cities  of  New  England  are  greatly  dignified 
by  its  presence.  Of  late  years,  however,  the  American 
elm  has  gained  a  bad  name  on  account  of  the  borers  and 
other  insects  that  infest  it.  This  is  no  reason  for  giving 
up  planting  it,  because  horticulturists  have  learned  to 
control  these  pests  with  a  little  care  and  skill.  The  old 
trees  are  hard  to  clean  because  they  are  so  large,  and 
there  are  also  many  of  them  so  old  as  to  be  at  the  end 
of  their  natural  careers,  consequently  it  is  no  wonder 


Cbotce  {Trees  ant)  Sbrubs  319 

they  are  dying  in  many  old  New  England  towns.  The 
trouble  is  that  nothing  will  quite  take  the  place  of  the 
American  elm.  The  wine-cup  form  is  quite  unique. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  the  use  of  the  American  elm  will  not 
pass  away. 

The  English  elm  is  very  hardy  and  stands  all  sorts 
of  difficult  exposures,  especially  on  the  seashore^and  in 
cities.  For  instance,  it  suits  the  streets  of  Boston 
better  than  almost  any  other  tree.  It  is  not  as  beauti- 
ful as  the  linden  and  maple  or  even  the  American  elm, 
but  the  massive  dark  green  foliage  is  fine  and  the  tree 
grows  to  great  size  and  age.  Its  growth  is  quite  rapid. 

There  is  a  tree,  the  ginkgo,  which  is  so  unique  and 
excellent  that  it  demands  a  few  moments'  attention.  It 
is  a  strange  looking  tree.  It  might  have  come  from 
another  planet.  Indeed,  it  is  one  of  the  oldest  trees 
on  earth,  having  been  found  in  one  of  the  lowest  strata 
where  fossil  plant  life  appears.  There  is  but  one  species 
and  one  variety  and  it  is  found  native  in  the  region  of 
Northern  China.  The  leaves  are  fan-shaped  and  weird 
and  eastern  looking.  It  is,  moreover,  hardy  and  free 
from  disease  to  an  extent  that  can  scarcely  be  said  of 
any  other  tree.  The  cones  grow  on  the  branches  in  a 
curious  way,  but  it  seldom  fruits  and  then  only  if  it 
stands  near  a  female  tree  of  the  same  kind,  for  it  is 
diaecious.  The  great  arms  of  these  trees  thrust  them- 
selves in  the  sky  in  strange  fashion  and  yet  some  of  the 
most  notable  specimens  in  America,  in  front  of  the 
Smithsonian  Institute  in  Washington,  District  of 
Columbia,  are  broad  and  massive.  The  forms  it  as- 


320  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitectute 

sumes  are  myriad,  and  it  is  only  apt  to  grow  well  after 
it  is  about  ten  years  old.  It  is  not  a  good  shade  tree. 
Its  transplanting  qualities  are  excellent. 

Another  tree  of  many  interesting  qualities  is  the 
deciduous  cypress.  Its  form  is  picturesque  as  well  as 
symmetrical.  Delicate  foliage  and  erect  carriage  give 
it  dignity  and  elegance.  There  is  a  variety  of  it,  the 
Chinese  cypress  (wrongly  so-called,  as  it  is  a  form  of 
the  American  deciduous  cypress),  which  is  particularly 
refined  and  elegant.  This  tree  naturally  likes  low  wet 
ground,  although  it  will  grow  well  on  high  land.  Fine 
specimens  may  be  seen  on  the  streets  of  Flushing, 
Long  Island,  on  ordinary  high  land.  One  drawback  it 
has,  that  of  putting  out  its  foliage  very  late  in  spring, 
as  late  as  the  middle  of  May. 

The  mountain-ash  is  a  fine  tree  bearing  beautiful 
berries.  It  is  of  moderate  size  and  classes  in  that  re- 
spect with  the  white  birch.  The  Sophora  japonica  (the 
Japanese  pagoda  tree)  is  little  used  although  it  is  ex- 
cellent, and  perfectly  hardy,  bearing  quantities  of  yel- 
low flowers  in  June  in  the  midst  of  attractive  foliage. 

There  are  a  few  shrubs  that  have  not  been  touched  on 
which  are  well  suited  for  summer  bloom  on  the  lawn. 
Very  hardy  and  picturesque  is  the  Aralia  pentaphylla. 
It  is  somewhat  low  and  compact  in  growth  and  al- 
together much  superior  to  the  Aralia  japonica,  the 
angelica  tree  from  Japan,  sometimes  known  as  the 
devil's  walking-stick,  a  great  awkward,  aggressive-look- 
ing object  with  large,  ragged,  tropical-looking  foliage. 
The  angelica  tree  is  perfectly  hardy,  but  so  coarse 


Cboice  Urees  ant>  Sbrubs  321 

looking  that  there  are  few  places  where  it  is  acceptable. 
Some  of  the  buddleias  are  fine  and  suited  for  summer 
effect,  especially  the  variety  Buddleia  veitchii.  The 
callicarpa  is  a  good  summer  flowering  shrub  and  so 
is  the  sweet-scented  shrub  calycanthus;  and  Chionan- 

VMMMMMMMMMMM* 

thus  virginica  is  tall  with  fine,  large,  deep  green  foliage 
with  fragrant,  drooping,  open  clusters  of  white  flowers, 
lace-like  in  appearance,  hence  its  name,  white  fringe 
tree.  The  weigelas  or  diervillas  make  fine  summer 
shrubs,  especially  Weigela  lavallee,  bearing  deep  crim- 
son flowers  all  through  the  summer;  of  the  same  type 
is  the  bloom  of  the  weigela,  Eva  Ratke,  whose  great 
masses  of  deep  crimson  make  a  rich  effect  in  the  summer. 
The  Elaeagnus  family  is  worth  growing  because  it  is 
so  vigorous  and  has  such  silvery  shades  on  the  under 
sides  of  the  leaves.  It  is  called  the  silv^thom  or  the 
oleaster,  and  although  somewhat  coarse,  its  great  vigour 
and  hardiness  make  it  valuable  for  the  lawn.  The 
Elceagnus  longipes  is  the  best  kind  and  is  notable  for 
its  profusion  of  red  berries  in  August  and  edible  fruit 
in  autumn.  The  rose  of  Sharon,  althea  or  hibiscus, 
has  its  value  for  its  brilliant  midsummer  flowering. 
The  plant  is  vigorous  and  hardy  and  easily  trans- 
planted, but  it  is  coarse  and  stiff  looking  in  habit. 
Potentilla  fruticosa,  shrubby  cinquefoil,  bears  on  its  low 
form  bright  yellow  flowers  in  summer  among  narrow 
fuzzy  leaves.  The  mock  oranges  (Philadelphus)  are 
excellent  shrubs,  large,  vigorous,  and  healthy,  bearing 
showy  flowers,  somewhat  like  those  of  the  orange; 
Philadelphus  grandiflora  and  Philadelphus  coronarius 


322  !&anfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

are  two  of  the  best  kinds.  Rhamnus  caiharticus,  the 
buckthorn,  is  very  hardy  and  suited  to  places  where  it 
is  likely  to  have  bad  usage.  It  has  good  foliage  and  red 
berries  in  summer,  turning  black.  Rhamnus  frangula 
is,  perhaps,  the  best  species  of  the  genus. 

St.  John's- wort,  the  hypericum,  a  July  flowering 
shrub,  is  quite  low  in  size  with  quanities  of  bright 
yellow  flowers  and  compact  foliage.  The  largest  flower 
is,  perhaps,  that  of  Hypericum  moserianum  and  the  best 
kind  Hypericum  kalmianum.  Kerria  japonica,  the  globe 
flower,  is  another  good  summer  blooming  shrub.  It  is 
dwarf  with  bright  yellow  flowers  and  green  branches. 
It  is  hardy,  pretty,  and  rather  refined.  Rhodotypus 
kerrioides  is  a  valuable  shrub  from  Japan.  The  foliage 
is  of  a  specially  fresh  and  light  green  colour,  making 
an  excellent  contrast  to  that  of  most  other  shrubs, 
and  after  all  it  is  the  foliage  that  counts;  the  flowers 
last  such  a  comparatively  short  time.  The  flowers 
of  the  Rhodotypus  are  not  specially  conspicuous  and 
the  black  berries  are  borne  all  winter.  Rubus  odoratus, 
the  flowering  raspberry,  is  pretty  all  summer  with  its 
clusters  of  beautiful  pink  or  purple  fragrant  blossoms. 

The  spiraeas  are  a  numerous  family  and  apt  to  look 

VjAptVRMWMi 

a  little  weedy  on  the  lawn.  Spirted  Anthony  Water er 
is  one  of  the  latest  varieties,  bearing  bright-coloured 
flowers  nearly  all  summer.  Spirceas  bumaldi,  callosa, 
billardii,  and  douglasi  all  have  red  flowers,  most  all 
summer,  and  even  though  the  flowers  are  gone,  the 
delicate  light  green  foliage  of  Spircea  thunbergii  makes 
it  a  fine  summer  shrub.  Symphoricarpus  vulgar  is 


Cbofce  Urees  anfc  Sbrubs  323 

(coral  berry)  is  a  humble  little  shrub,  but  it  is  useful 

„ 

with  its  red  and  yellow  berries  all  summer  in  connexion 
with  larger  shrubs. 

Stuartia  pentagynia  is  a  lovely  shrub  that  is  little 
known  and  not  quite  hardy  in  the  Middle  States.  The 
flowers  are  strikingly  large,  of  pearly  whiteness,  with 
orange-coloured  anthers.  The  leaves  are  a  bright  rich 
green,  reddish  beneath.  The  whole  shrub  looks  not 
unlike  a  camelia.  Styrax  japonica  has  a  little  the 
appearance  of  the  dogwood,  only  its  habit  is  not  as 
good;  it  is,  however,  hardy,  the  flowers  are  pure  white, 
bell-shaped,  and  arranged  in  pendulous  groups,  and 
bloom  in  May  and  early  June. 

The  lilacs  are  the  glory  of  spring.  Few  flowers  are 
so  popular  both  for  odour  and  colour,  and  the  foliage  is 
massive  and  green  throughout  the  summer  and  is 
specially  suited  to  the  garden.  There  are  a  number  of 
tamarisks^  both  erect  and  spreading;  some  of  them 
are  naturally  hardier  than  others.  They  all  belong 
in  exposed  places  near  the  shore  or  the  brink  of  some 
feature  of  water,  or  in  the  seams  of  or  near  by  rocks. 
They  are  wild  looking  and  odd  and  graceful  and  bear 
bright  red  flowers  in  summer  mingled  with  light 
feathery  foliage.  The  tamarisk  does  not  group  well 
with  other  shrubs  and  should,  therefore,  be  kept  some- 
what by  itself.  The  best  kinds  are  Tamarisk  africana, 
Tamarisk  gallica,  Tamarisk  germanica,  and  Tamarisk 
indica,  and,  perhaps,  the  hardiest  and  most  generally 
useful  is  Tamarisk  africana. 

The  snowballs  (viburnums)  are  an  important  family 


324  Xanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

and  include  many  species  and  varieties  most  valuable 
for  grouping  with  other  shrubs  on  the  lawn.  Their 
appearance  is  varied.  The  large-sized  flowers  of  Vi- 
burnum plicatum,  the  well-known  Japanese  form,  are 
much  like  Viburnum  tomentosum,  only  the  latter  is 
more  bushy,  with  less  showy  flowers,  while  on  the  other 
hand,  the  native  Viburnum  acerifolium,  Viburnum 
cassinoides,  and  Viburnum  dentatum  are  beautiful 
and  valuable  for  their  foliage,  but  not  as  much  for  their 
flowers,  and  they  are  different  in  almost  every  way  from 
the  Japanese  or  Chinese  kinds,  plicatum,  dilatatum,  and 
macrocephalum,  while  Viburnum  lentago  and  Viburnum 
lantana  are  each  beautiful  in  their  way.  The  Viburnum 
oxycoccus,  or  opulus,  and  opulus  sterilis  have  beautiful 
large  white  flowers,  and  in  the  case  of  the  first,  splen- 
did red  fruit  in  autumn.  Viburnum  sieboldii—ii  you 
have  ever  seen  it,  you  have  beheld  the  finest  of  the 
family.  When  mature,  it  is  almost  a  tree,  and  has 
splendid  large  thick  glossy  foliage  not  easily  described. 
The  flowers  are  white  and  grow  in  more  or  less  erect 
open  clusters,  and  red  berries  decorate  it  in  autumn. 
The  little  recognized  Viburnum  prunifolium  (black  haw 
or  stag  bush)  comes  a  close  second  to  the  Viburnum 
sieboldii.  Its  foliage  is  glossy  and  fine  and  compact 
and  picturesque  and  the  autumn  colouring  is  unsur- 
passed among  shrubs  except  by  the  dogwood,  androm- 
eda,  and  Euonymus  alatus. 

And  this  leads  to  the  consideration  of  the  autumn 
coloured  trees  and  shrubs.  A  list  of  some  of  them  may 
be  of  value  to  induce  study  of  catalogues  and  botanies 


Cbotce  Urees  ant)  Sbrubs  325 

to  learn  their  habits;  the  best  of  them  are  maples  (red 
and  scarlet),  the  Japanese  polymorphum,  the  striatum, 
the  sugar,  the  circinatum,  and  Tartaricum  ginnali,  a 
brilliantly  red  kind.  Then  come  the  Nyassa  multiflora, 
sour-gum  or  pepperidge,  the  red  oak,  the  scarlet  oak, 
the  white  oak  (Quercus  alba),  the  swamp  white  oak 
(Quercus  bicolor),  and  the  pin  oak  (Quercus  palustris) 
and  the  liquidambar:  these  with  the  dogwoods,  an- 
dromedas,  the  sumacs  (Rhus  aromatica,  Rhus  glabra,  and 
Rhus  typhina),  and  Berberis  thunbergi,  our  excellent 
friend  of  the  spring  flowering  kinds.  In  addition  to 
the  beautiful  fall  colour,  there  are  the  bright  red  berried 
kinds,  Japanese  Rosa  rugosa,  other  roses,  the  barberries, 
and  other  hawthorns. 

There  is  one  shrub  that  is  becoming  deservedly  pop- 
ular and  that  is  really  in  almost  a  class  by  itself,  and 
that  is  the  Euonymus  alatus.  Its  red  is  unique.  There 
is  nothing  just  like  it.  The  crimson  is  not  exactly  a 
fiery  one,  but  there  is  a  glow  in  the  heart  of  it  that  is 
quite  indescribable.  You  notice  it  afar  off.  Perhaps 
this  red  is  not  better  than  the  velvety  sheen  of  the  dog- 
wood autumn  colour,  but  it  is  a  surprise  and  a  delight. 
The  hydrangeas  are  a  family  which,  while  not  noticeable 
for  the  colour  of  the  leaf,  make  an  important  feature  on 
the  autumn  lawn.  They  have  large  massive  foliage 
and  some  species  a  silvery  under  surface,  but  their  chief 
beauty  is  the  flower.  This  grows  in  great  trusses  of  a 
white  colour  which  fade  in  September  to  pink,  red, 
purple,  and  brown  colour.  Beside  this  flower  which 
comes  at  a  season  when  hardly  anything  else  is  in  bloom, 


326  Xanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

the  foliage  is  somewhat  uninteresting  and  a  little  coarse. 
On  one  kind,  Hydrangea  paniculata  grandiflora,  the 
flowers  hang  their  heads  in  a  somewhat  heavy  fashion. 
The  Hydrangea  paniculata  tardiva,  as  it  is  sometimes 
called,  has  an  erect  spike  of  bloom  which  lasts  much 
longer  and  is  more  attractive.  Probably  on  account  of 
this  late  blooming  faculty  the  hydrangea  has  become 
very  popular.  It  is  a  shrub  that  needs  sharp  pruning 
any  time  after  it  has  bloomed  in  fall  until  it  begins  to 
put  out  leaves  in  spring.  There  is  a  way  of  pruning 
during  the  summer  that  induces  growth  of  flower-bear- 
ing wood.  Hydrangea  hortensia  is  not  hardy,  but 
bears  beautiful  flowers.  It  is  grown  in  tubs.  The 
paniculata  type  is  very  hardy. 

To  the  ornamental  vines  some  consideration  should 
be  given.  They  are  all  fine:  wistaria,  Japan  ivy  (Am- 
pelopsis  veitchii),  Virginia  creeper,  climbing  roses, 
especially  the  Japanese  kind  Wichuriana,  the  trumpet 
vine  (Bignonia  grandiflora),  and  of  less  value  Bignonia 
radicans,  honeysuckles,  climbers  and  half  bush  ones, 
Sullivanti  and  Periclymenum  belgica,  Euonymus  rad- 
icans,  the  only  evergreen  climber  of  the  lot,  English 
ivy  being  of  little  value  in  this  climate  of  America, 
the  periwinkle  (Vinca  minor),  matrimony  vine,  lycium 
in  variety,  the  wild  grape  (the  fox  grape),  Vitis  labrusca, 
the  Dolichos  japonica  (kidsu  vine),  fastest  of  growers, 
forty  feet  in  one  season,  bitter-sweet,  Celastris  scandens, 
Dutchman 's-pipe,  Aristolochia  sipho,  a  hardy,  strong- 
growing,  tropical-looking  vine  with  large  light  green 
leaves;  finally  the  Clematis  family,  the  native  kinds, 


Cbotce  Urees  ant)  Sbrubs  327 

Clematis  virginiana  (the  virgin 's-bower),  and  Clematis 
paniculata,  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  profusely 
blooming  climbers  with  white  flowers  in  August.  The 
clematis  hybrids  are  charming,  purple,  white,  pink,  red, 
and  blue;  only  they  are  a  little  difficult  to  grow  in  this 
climate  of  New  York  State.  Actinidia  polygama  is 
vigorous  and  picturesque. 

There  is  one  shrub  that  has  not  been  mentioned  and 
yet  it  is  probably  the  most  useful  plant  of  all,  and  that 
is  the  privet.  There  are  many  kinds  of  privet,  ever- 
green and  deciduous,  hardy  and  tender,  and  they  are 
all  interesting  in  their  own  way,  but  there  are  three  that 
count  a  great  deal  in  all  lawn  planting.  The  so-called 
California  privet  from  Japan  (Ligustrum  ovalifolium) 
is  used  for  hedges  everywhere  in  Europe  and  America. 
Doubtless  millions  of  plants  are  grown  every  year  and 
it  behaves  well  on  all  occasions  except  once  in  a  few 
years  a  severe  winter  comes  along  and  kills  it,  although 
it  hardly  ever  altogether  dies,  but  springs  up  the  next 
season.  It  transplants  well,  grows  fast,  and  if  properly 
pruned  will  retain  its  beauty  for  many  years.  Perhaps 
it  is  felt  to  be  a  little  stiff  in  form  and  monotonous,  but 
it  has  glossy  green  foliage  and  if  allowed  to  grow  freely 
makes  in  time  a  good  shape.  Its  stiffness  probably 
persists  in  our  minds  on  account  of  its  frequent  use  as 
that  abomination  of  vegetation,  a  hedge.  The  Euro- 
pean privet  has  not  so  fine  a  shade  of  green,  but  in  other 
ways  greatly  resembles  it.  The  best  privet  is  the 
Ligustrum  regelianum  from  China,  and  this  is  rapidly 
being  recognized.  It  has  a  graceful  weeping,  somewhat 


328  SLanfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

spreading  habit  and  the  leaves  are  grouped  in  a  quaint, 
odd  fashion.  In  time  it  grows  to  considerable  size, 
but  it  always  retains  its '  graceful,  quaint  habit,  and 
needs  but  little  pruning.  There  are  no  shrubs  perhaps 
that  are  so  generally  useful  on  the  lawn  as  these  un- 
obtrusive privets. 

Coming  to  the  winter  time  our  thoughts  naturally 
turn  to  the  evergreens.  There  are  white-stemmed 
birches,  red-stemmed  dogwoods,  yellow-  and  red- 
stemmed  jaofltexg,  and  the  berries  that  linger  on  them 
from  fall,  but  the  evergreens  after  all  make  the  winter 
landscape  and  create  by  far  the  major  part  of  its 
interest. 

The  Abies  or  firs  are  a  numerous  family,  stately  and 
of  great  size  and  beauty.  There  are  firs  and  spruces 
in  Europe  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  high.  The 
hemlock,  Picea  canadensis ,  or  more  properly  Tsuga 
canadensis,  is  a  beautiful,  graceful  evergreen  that  does 
not  grow  so  rapidly  as  some  others,  but  is  easily  trans- 
planted and  generally  hardy,  although  it  is  apt  to 
surfer  from  severe  cold  and  winds  in  early  spring,  during 
the  earlier  years  of  its  growth.  There  is  a  beautiful 
form  of  it  called  Tsuga  carolinianum  because  it  was 
found  in  the  mountains  of  North  Carolina.  It  is  very 
symmetrical  and  has  a  drooping  grace  at  the  end  of  its 
branches  and  deep  shadows  in  the  inner  spaces  of  its 
foliage  in  the  case  of  a  somewhat  mature  tree  that  is 
very  lovely. 

The  white  fir  (Abies  concolor)  is,  perhaps,  after  the 
hemlock,  the  finest  of  the  firs.  Its  young  growth  is  of 


Cbotce  Urees  anb  Sbrubs  329 

unequalled  beauty,  light  coloured,  rich,  and  drooping, 
and  there  is  the  same  beauty  in  its  inner  spaces  which 
has  been  noticed  in  the  Carolina  hemlock.  One  of 
the  finest  evergreens  to  be  seen  anywhere  is  a  specimen 
of  Abies  concolor  in  the  Arnold  Arboretum,  Jamaica 
Plain,  Boston,  Mass.  It  stands  forty  feet  high,  is  some- 
what narrow  compared  to  many  other  evergreens  of 
the  same  size,  but  is  compact  and  of  perfect  symmetry 
and  unsurpassed  colour.  The  colour  is  finer  than  that 
of  the  highly  prized  blue  spruce,  Picea  pungens,  but 
more  of  that  hereafter.  Abies  nobilis  (noble  silver  fir) 
is  fine  for  its  deep  blue  colour  and  picturesque  form, 
but  many  of  the  silver  firs  that  thrive  in  Europe  do  not 
in  North  America,  and  this  is  one.  Noteworthy  in 
this  respect  are  the  balsam  firs,  Nordman's  fir,  Euro- 
pean silver  fir  (Abies  pectinata) ,  and  Silver  Spanish  fir 
(Abies  pinsapo).  The  Veitch's  silver  fir  (Abies  veitchii) 
and  the^Nikko  fir  (Abies  homolepis,  synonym  brachy- 
phylla)  are,  however,  entirely  hardy  and  satisfactory. 
The  biotas  or  phinese  arbor-yitae  can  hardly  be  said 
to  be  entirely  hardy  in  the  northern  States  of  America. 
The  biotas  are  a  beautiful  family  with  fine  tints  of  blue 
and  green  and  gold. 

Thejcedars,  so  beautiful  in  Europe,  Lebanon,  deo- 
dara,  and  Atlas,  are  not  hardy  in  the  Middle  States  of 
the  United  States.  The  cryptomerias,  especially  the 
lobbi,  which  is  certainly  hardy,  are  strange,  oriental 
looking  trees  that  seem  a  little  out  of  place  in  American 
or  European  landscapes.  They  belong,  particularly, 
in  a  Japanese  garden.  The  cypresses,  especially 


330  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

Lawson's,  are  very  lovely  in  Europe,  but  they  do  not 
succeed  in  the  Middle  States  of  the  United  States. 
The  junipers,  on  the  other  hand,  are  equally  attractive 
and  in  many  cases  do  well,  though  one  of  the  best  of 
them,  the  Irish  juniper,  does  not  succeed  in  the  Middle 
States.  Its  narrow  pyramidal  form  makes  it  a  valuable 
plant  in  grouping.  The  American  pyramidal  forms,  the 
red  cedar  and  its  varieties,  are  almost  always  hardy ;  yet 
what  plant  is  absolutely  hardy? 

The  red  cedar  is  as  effective  in  lawn  planting  as  the 
celebrated  Italian  cypresses,  which  do  not  grow  here. 
There  are  more  or  less  trailing  forms  of  juniper,  Juni- 
perus  canadensis,  the  Savin  juniper  and  its  variety  of 
great  beauty,  tamariscifolia,  and  also  quite  as  trailing 
are  Juniperus  squamata  and  Juniperus  procumbens, 
all  excellent  to  use  in  connexion  with  rocks  or  along 
borders  of  streams.  The  Japanese  and  Chinese  juni- 
pers are  nearly  all  good  and  do  not  grow  out  of  size. 
They  have  most  picturesque  and  elegant  forms.  Some 
of  them  are  Juniperus  chinensis,  Juniperus  pfitzeriana, 
and  Juniperus  japonica.  There  is  ajblue ;  Virginia  cedar 
called  tripartite,  that  is  excellent  for  planting  near 
rocks.  It  has  a  wild  and  rustic  look  and  is  irregular  and 
spreading  in  habit.  The  entire  juniper  family  is  most 
valuable  on  the  lawn. 

Among  the  spruces  (the  Piceas)  the  old  Picea  excelsa, 
the  common  Norway  spruce,  is  not  proving  altogether 
satisfactory,  as  the  years  go  on,  but  generally  its  prox- 
imity to  the  seashore  will  be  found  to  be  the  cause  of  its 
failure,  or  it  may  have  been  grown  too  far  south.  The 


Cbolce  Utees  anfc  Sbrubs  331 

northern  part  of  New  York  or  Massachusetts  suits  it 
better  than  Washington,  D.  C.  Moreover,  when  it 
becomes  old,  it  is  not  always  attractive  in  colour  and 
form. 

The  white  spruce  is  better  and  succeeds  in  more 
places,  but  even  it  has  its  favourite  spots,  and  they  are 
not  so  far  north  as  those  suited  to  the  Norway  spruce. 
The  attractive  lighter  shades  of  the  white  spruce  form 
another  of  its  attractions,  but  for  really  fine  blue  tints  it 
is  necessary  to  go  to  the  real  blue  spruces,  Picea  pungens 
or  Picea  engelmani.  They  are  the  richest  of  all  the  blue 
spruces.  The  most  intensely  blue  are  the  grafted  plants 
of  Picea  pungens,  but  seedlings  are  more  symmetrical 
and  make  finer  trees  when  fully  developed,  although 
some  of  them  do  not  show  as  deep  a  shade  of  blue  and 
silver.  A  hardy  and  picturesque  darkfir  is  Picea 
omorica,  and  although  there  are  many  other  firs, 
hardly  any  others  than  those  mentioned  can  be  said 
to  be  satisfactory  in  the  climate  of  the  Middle  States  of 
the  United  States.  In  many  parts  of  Great  Britain 
many  others  do  well.  The  spruces  (Piceas)  have  great 
value  in  landscape  gardening.  The  Norway  spruce  is 
well  known  everywhere  and  its  towering  form  and  rapid 
growth  are  always  fine.  As  already  noted,  it  has  not  the 
beauty,  however,  of  some  other  kinds  and  is  a  little 
more  liable  to  disease  in  North  America.  An  instance 
of  a  superior  kind  is  the  oriental  Jgnice  (Picea  orien- 
talis).  This  might  be  termed  a  highly  refined  Norway 
spruce.  It  is  hardier,  has  richer,  more  closely  set 
foliage,  most  beautiful  colour,  and  often  retains  its 


332  SLanfcscape  Hrcbitecture 

beauty  to  great  age.  Though  a  little  difficult  to  trans- 
plant and  at  first  slow  of  growth  it  eventually  attains 
great  size  and  stateliness.  Picea  omorica,  already  men- 
tioned, is  somewhat  like  the  last,  only  it  has  a  very 
dark  colour,  darker  than  almost  any  evergreen  except  the 
yew.  It  is,  unfortunately,  little  known  and  appreciated. 
Alcock's  spruce  (Picea  alcockiana)  has  fine  close  set 
foliage,  silvery  underneath,  and  it  is  quite  hardy.  Picea 
polita,  the  tiger-tail  spruce,  is  quaint  with  its  dark 
rich  foliage  and  shape  of  branches  suggesting  a  tiger's 
tail.  It  is  a  very  rugged  kind.  Of  course,  there  are 
other  fine  spruces,  but  the  ones  mentioned  are  most 
useful  for  a  lawn  laid  out  on  a  well-conceived  landscape 
design  and  not  for  a  museum  of  evergreens. 

The  pines  are  always  fine  and  the  number  of  kinds  is 
considerable.  Some  of  the  common  American  sorts, 
however,  head  the  list  for  hardiness  and  usefulness, 
although  they  are,  unfortunately,  not  much  used. 
Pinus  resinosa,  red  pine,  is  such  a  one  and  so  is  Pinus 
regida,  pitch  pine,  though  less  beautiful.  It  is  most  use- 
ful, however,  on  poor,  sandy  land.  The  native  white 
gine,  (Pinus  strobus)  is,  on  the  other  hand,  fully  appre- 
ciated though  it  is  native.  It  is  perhaps  the  most 
beautiful  evergreen  of  North  America.  It  attains  a 
lofty  size  and  is  sometimes  damaged  by  wind  storms  and 
ice,  but  it  is  lovely  in  its  colouring.  The  Bhotan  pine 
(Pinus  excelsa)  much  resembles  the  white  pine  except 
the  needles  are  a  little  longer  and  more  graceful.  It  is 
not  quite  as  hardy  as  the  white  pine.  Then  there  is 
Pinus  parviflora  with  its  blue  shades.  Quite  distinct, 


Gboice  {Trees  anfc  Sbrubs  333 

— — 

however,  is  the  widely  grown  Austrian  pine  (Pinus 
austrica) .  This  is  the  best  of  all  evergreens  for  the  sea- 
shore or  very  much  exposed  places.  It  grows  fast,  and 
is  a  positive  feature  in  the  landscape  with  its  fine  dark 
masses  of  foliage.  In  a  dwarfer,  more  compact  way, 
Pinus  mughus,  the  Mugho  pine,  is  about  as  hardy,  and 
has  a  very  decided  and  pleasing  effect  on  the  lawn. 
Pinus  cembra,  the  Swiss  stone  pine  (not  the  Italian 
stone  pine  which  is  tender  in  northern  climates),  is 
very  hardy,  has  a  pyramidal  compact  form,  and  grows 
slowly,  although  it  attains  considerable  size. 

The  v.ews  are  a  fine  family  of  evergreens,  one  of  the 
very  best,  but  in  America  they  are  most  of  them  not 
really  hardy,  that  is,  the  winter  is  apt  to  destroy  their 
beauty  even  if  it  does  not  kill  them.  There  is  a  spread- 
ing yew,  Taxus  repandens,  whose  dark  green  foliage  will 
sometimes  cover  a  space  fifteen  feet  square.  Its  chief 
value  is  its  great  hardiness.  The  last  yew  that  will  be 
mentioned  is  Taxus  cuspidata,  the  best  of  the  family  for 
all  purposes  and  in  certain  ways  the  best  of  all  ever- 
greens. The  foliage  is  deep  green  and  glossy ;  it  grows 
as  a  rule  compactly,  but  it  takes  on  various  forms,  some 
low  and  even  dwarf,  and  others  pyramidal  and  of 
considerable  size.  All  these  forms  are  hardy  and  ex- 
ceedingly effective  in  every  way.  The  umbrella  pine 
(Sciadopitys  verticillata)  looks  like  a  yew,  but  it  is  not. 
Its  form  is  symmetrical  and  its  colour  deep  and  glossy ; 
a  beautiful  tree  and  a  choice  tree  but  no  longer  so  very 
rare.  The  Japanese  are  sending  them  over  in  consider- 
able numbers  and  they  are  grown  in  this  country  and 


334  l/anfcscape  Hrcbttecture 

Europe.  A  large  tree  of  this  umbrella  pine  twenty 
feet  high,  as  it  can  be  seen  in  Europe,  is  a  fine  sight. 
It  is  quite  hardy. 

The  Thuyas  (arbor-vitas)  are  most  of  them  hardy, 
compact,  and  of  pyramidal  form.  Their  colouring  is  not 
as  fine  as  the  biotas,  but  they  are  hardier.  Most  of 
them  are  varieties  of  the  American  arbor- vitas.  There 
is  a  Thuya  standishii,  that  is  hardy  and  graceful  with 
slightly  pendulous  branches.  The  Retinosporas  are  a 
beautiful  family,  but  some  of  the  kinds  fall  into  a  bad 
condition  unless  they  are  frequently  pruned.  This  ap- 
plies to  the  Retinospora  plumosa,  squarrosa  and  psifera; 
Retinospora  obtusa  and  filifera  are  better.  There  is 
also  a  weeping  hemlock  (Sargent's  weeping  hemlock) 
which  should  have  been  noted  before  as  a  very  beautiful 
evergreen,  and  also  Tsuga  sieboldii,  a  hemlock  of  very 
deep  green  colour,  compact  and  hardy  and  a  good  tree 
though  seldom  seen  on  lawns.  It  should  be  understood 
that  the  term  hardiness  is  meant  in  all  cases  to  apply 
to  the  Middle  States  of  the  United  States. 

These  notes  are  closed  with  the  evergreens.  Peren- 
nials and  bedding  plants  of  the  tender  kinds  are  too 
extended  a  subject  to  properly  discuss  within  the  limited 
space  of  this  book.  Moreover,  such  plants  as  the 
irises,  phloxes,  larkspurs,  pinks,  hollyhocks,  peonies, 
the  bedding  plants,  cannas,  salvias,  geraniums,  and 
coleuses  fill  up  the  minor  spaces  of  the  landscape  picture. 
They  have  great  beauty,  perhaps  as  much  as  anything 
on  the  lawn,  but  they  do  not  count  much  in  the  general 
survey  of  the  picture.  It  would  not  be  unpleasant  or 


Cbofce  Urees  an&  Sbrubs  335 

a  failure  if  they  were  not  present;  their  presence  would, 
on  the  other  hand,  lend  a  charm,  a  loveliness  to  the 
scene  that  can  hardly  be  overstated.  It  would,  there- 
fore, be  of  great  advantage  to  study  diligently  these 
plants. 

Finally,  in  closing  this  chapter  it  should  be  noted  that 
very  many  kinds  have  been  left  unconsidered  not  be- 
cause they  do  not  have  value  for  the  lawn  in  both  this 
country  and  Europe,  but  because  it  was  necessary  in 
one  short  chapter  to  limit  the  purview  to  the  most  dis- 
tinctive, easily  obtained,  and  most  important  from  a 
landscape  gardener's  point  of  view.  If  neglect  or  over- 
sight is  felt,  it  should  be  charged  to  lack  of  space  and 
the  desire  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  a  nurseryman's 
catalogue. 


NOTE. — The  Douglas  sprucejs  one  of  the  best  of  evergreens  for  hardi- 
ness, vigour,  anS  graceful  symmetry,  and  for  its  beautiful  bluish  green 
colour. 


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INDEX 


Abies  (Fir)  brachyphytta,  329 

Abies  concolor,  329 

Abies,  European  silver  fir,  329 

A  bies  nobilis,  329 

Abies,  Veitch's  silver  fir,  329 

Addison,   Joseph,  Chinese   lands- 

cape gardening,  15 
Ailanthus,  315 
Althea  (rose  of  Sharon),  321 
Andr£,  Edouard,  nature  playing 

a  ridiculous  part,  37 
Angelo,  Michael,    Pantheon    and 

St.  Peter's  Dome,  84 
Apollinaris,     translated     by     Sir 

Henry  Wotton,  7 
Aralia  japonica,  320 
Aralia  pentaphylla,  320 
Arbor-vitae,  Chinese,  329 
Arbutus,  Warwick  Castle,  117 
Architect,  function  of,  103 
Aristotle,  203 
Ash,  mountain,  320 
Attiret,    Jesuit    Father,    Chinese 

imitation  of  nature  in  gardening, 

8 

Authorities,  value  of,  31 
Autumn  fruits  for  ornament: 

Barberries,  325 

Hawthorns,  325 

Rosa  rugosa,  325 
Autumn  shrubs  for  colour: 

Andromeda  arbor  ea,    325 

Berberis  thunbergi,  325 

Dogwood  (Cornus  florida),  325 

Sumac,  325 
Azaleas,  best  and  hardiest  kinds, 


Bagehot,  Walter,  Garden  of  Eden, 

10 

Beale,  R.,  65 
Beckford,William,BoboliGardens, 

250-252 


Beech,  315 

Benson,  Arthur  C.,  the  quality  of 
charm,  236 

Berberis  thunbergi,  307 

Biran,  Maine  de,  emotion  in- 
spired by  landscape  gardening, 

54 

Birch,  white,  320 
Boboli  Gardens,  79 
Boyle   (E.  V.  B.),  Mrs.,  Italian 

gardens,  253 
Bridge,   Boulder,    Central    Park, 

New  York  City,  293 
Bridge,  Bow,  Central  Park,  New 

York  City,  291 
Bridges,  181,  290 
Bridges,  Robert,  162,  258 
Brown,  Launcelot,  19 
Buddleia  veitchii,  321 

Cactus,      wild      (prickly      pear), 

Opuntia  vulgaris,  172 
Callicarpa,  321 
Catalpa  syringafolia,  315 
Catullus,  address  to  Lake  Sirio,  52 
Cedar: 

Atlas,  329 

Deodara,  329 

Lebanon,  329 
Chambers,     Sir    William,     Pekin 

gardens,  8;  Petit  Trianon,  19 
Claude,  value  of  study  of  nature, 

32 

Clematis,  base  of  wall,.  173 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  dream  of  poem, 
67;  knowledge  of  parks,  68 

Colour  effects  in  landscape  gar- 
dening, 57 

Conn,  Prof.  H.  W.,  123, 125 

Constable,  art  of,  83 

Croce,  Benedetto,  39 

Cryptomeria  lobbi,  329 

Cusa,  Nicholas  de,  74 


343 


344 


fln&e* 


Cypress,  deciduous,  320 
Cypress,  Lawson's,  330 

Delille,  Abbe",  II,  15 

Ditch  or  Ha-ha,  use  of,  96 

Douglas  spruce  (Pseudo-Tsuga 
Douglasi),  335 

Downing,  Andrew  Jackson,  22,  41, 
61,  264,  265,  266 

Drives,  135 

Dufresny,  Charles,  early  advo- 
cate of  the  natural  style,  2 1 

Durham  Cathedral,  water  effect, 
1 60 

El&agnus  (silverthorn  or  oleaster) 
longipes,  321 

Eliot,  Charles,  character  of  the 
landscape  gardening  of  Prince 
Puckler,  26;  plantations  in 
harmony  with  environment, 
221-224 

Elm,  American,  318 

Elm,  English,  319 

Eucken,  Rudolph,  order  pre- 
scribed by  nature,  2 

Euonymus  alatus,  324 

Euonymus  radicans,  1 73 

Evolution  of  landscape  gardening, 


Fence  on  boundary  of   Muskau 

Park,  100 

Fe"nelon,  love  of  nature,  55-56 
Ferns,  base  of  wall,  173 
Fichte,  227 
Forsythia  fortuni,  307 
Forsythia  viridissima,  307 
Fountains,  157,  257 
Fringe,    white    (Chionanthus    vir- 

ginica),  321 
Fruit     trees,     double     flowering 

kinds,  308 

Garden,  Chinese,  67;  New  College, 
Oxford,  England,  263 

Garden  and  Forest,  vol.  i.,  p.  8, 
Prof.  C.  S.  Sargent's  artificial 
lake,  158-159;  vol.  i.,  p.  52, 
description  of  bridge,  Dart- 
moor, England,  181 

Garden  of  Damascus,  3 

Garden  of  Eden,  in  Paradise  Lost, 
10 

Garden,  old-fashioned,  262-263 


Gardening,  French,  24 

Gardens,  hanging,  5 

Ginkgo  tree  (Salisburia  adianti- 
folia),  319 

Girardon,  Marquis,  owner  of 
estate  of  Ermenouvelle  where 
Rousseau  was  buried,  17 

Goethe,  appreciation  of  Prince 
Puckler,  2 

Grasses,  129 

Grouping  of  shrubs  along  side- 
walk, 100 

Hawthorn,  English  (Cratcegus  oxy- 
cantha),  308 

Hawthorns,  American,  308 

Hegel,  203 

Hemlock  (Tsnga  canadensis) ,  328 

Hilgard,  Prof.  E.  W.,  125 

Hirschfeldt,  Theorie  der  Garden 
Kunst,  155 

Hoffding,  Harold,  action  of  feel- 
ing when  passing  from  the  old 
to  new,  300 

Home,  Henry,  Lord  Kaimes,  emo- 
tion inspired  by  gardening,  53 

Honeysuckle  for  fence,  93 

Horsechestnut,  white  and  red 
flowering,  307 

Horticulture  not  necessarily 
landscape  gardening,  73 

Horticulturist,  by  A.  J.  Downing, 
269 

House,  adjustment  to  landscape, 
1 06 ;  relation  to  outbuildings,  1 09 

House  leek  (sempervivum) ,  172 

Huet,  Pierre  Daniel,  early  advo- 
cate of  natural  style,  19 

Hugo,  Victor,  natural  style  versus 
formal  style,  24 

Humus,  122,  123,  129 

Hunt,  Leigh,  lines  on  a  fountain, 

257 

Hydrangea  hortensia,  326 
Hydrangea  paniculata  grandiflora, 

326 

Hydrangea  paniculata  tardiva,  326 
Hypericum  kalmianum,  322 
Hypericum  moserianum,  322 

Iris,  base  of  wall,  173 
Irving,  Washington,  259 
Ivy,  Tin  tern  Abbey,  104 
Ivy,  Japanese    (Ampelopsis   veit- 
chii),  173 


Uufcex 


345 


Japanese  art,  ideas  about  Central 

Park  by  a  Japanese  artist,  64 
Jefferies,  Richard,  80, 81, 210, 243, 

258 
Jekyll,  Gertrude,    use    of    rocks, 

171 
Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  approves  of 

landscape  gardening,   17 
Johnson,  Prof.  S.  W.,  125 
Juniper,  Chinese,  330 
Juniper,  Irish,  330 
funiper,  Italian,  330 
funiper,  red  cedar,  330 
[uniperus,  japonica,  330 
funiperus,  pfitzeriana,  330 
[uniperus,  procumbens,  330 
Juniperus,  squamata,  330 
Juniperus,  tripartita,  330 

Kant,  Immanuel,  iv 

Keats,  John,  262 

Kent,  William,  21 

Kerria  japonica,  322 

Kinglake,  A.  W.,  3 

Kingsland,  Mayor  of  New  York 
City,  discussing  park  sites,  267 

Knight,  Richard  Payne,  treat- 
ment around  the  house,  108 

Koempfer,  Engelbert,  Dutch  bot- 
anist and  traveller,  9 

'Laburnum,  golden  chain,  315 

La  Farge,  John,  6,  38 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  gardens, 

249 
Landscape     gardening,   requisites 

for  perfection,  52 
Langley,     Battey,     execution    of 

plan,  45 
Larch,    great    size    at    Warwick 

Castle,  117 
Laurel,   mountain    (Kalmia    lati- 

folia),  312 

Lee,  Vernon,  Italian  gardens,  249 
Leibnitz,  Gottfried  Wilhelm,  71 
L'Enfant,  concerning  original  de- 
sign of  Washington,  D.  C.,  303 
Le  Notre,  16,  17,  147 
Lilacs,  323 
Linden,  European  varieties: 

argentea,  318 

dasystyla,  318 

petiolaris,  318 

Liquid  ambar,  autumn  colour,  325 
Loudon,  J.  C.,  22,  36 


Magnolia    conspicua    in    Central 

Park,  308 
Maples,  autumn  coloured: 

Circinatum,   325 

Polymorphum,   325 

Striatum,  325 

Sugar,  325 

Tartaricum  ginnali,  325 
Meynell,    Alice,    Mrs.,     ideal    of 

garden,  256 
Milton,     John,     description     of 

Garden  of  Eden,  10 
Montesquieu,  essay  on  taste,  15 
Morel,    M.,    laid    out    estate    of 

Ermenouville,   17 
Mt.    Vernon,    home    of    George 

Washington,  59 
Muskau  Park,   as  it  now  exists 

after     alterations     by     Prince 

Piickler,    60;    as    it    originally 

appeared,  60 

Nero,  parks  and  Golden  House,  6 
Newman,    John    Henry,    respect 

for  all  kinds  of  beauty,  58 
Nolen,  John,  editor  of  last  edition 

of  Humphrey  Repton,  vi 

Oak  (Quercus),  black,  317 
Oak  (Quercus),  pin,  317 
Oak  (Quercus),  red,  317 
Oak  (Quercus),  scarlet,  317 
Oak  (Quercus),  white,  317 
Oak  (Quercus),  willow,  317 
Olmsted,  Frederick  Law,  creator 
of  Central  Park,  New  York,  26; 
beauty  of  landscape  gardening 
far-reaching,    36;    Mt.    Royal 
Park,  Montreal,  Canada,  report, 
138;  two  types  of  park  sites, 
269;  value  of   certain  property 
for  parks,  272;  sanative  effect 
of  parks  on  mind  and  body,  273; 
view  beyond  borders  of  prop- 
erty, 278 

Olmsted  &  Vaux,  design  of  Central 
Park,  New  York  City,  vi; 
concerning  the  natural  style  of 
park  design,  28;  roads  and 
paths,  139;  meadow  effects, 
Central  Park,  New  York  City, 
232 ;  value  of  pastoral  landscape, 
275;  choice  of  park  site,  275- 
278;  creation  of  pastoral  scen- 
ery, 280-285 


346 


fln&o; 


Park,  roads  and  paths,  142;  sana- 
tive effect  of,  272;  scenery  of, 
286;  accessory  elements  of,  289; 
treatment  of,  Washington,  D.  C., 
301 

Park,  Babelsberg,   60 
Park,  Central,  New  York  City,  70, 

94, 142,  183;  rock  work,  180 
Park,  English,  character  of  enclos- 
ure, 95 

Park,  Muskau,  character  of  en- 
closure,   94;   development   one 
hundred  years  ago,  70 
Pekin,  gardens  of,  69 
Pepperidge  (Nyssa  multiflora),  325 
Philadelphus  coronarius,  321 
Philadelphus  grandiflora,  321 
Picea  alcockiana,  332 
Picea  (blue)  engelmani,  331 
Picea  (blue)  pungens,  331 
Picea  (Norway)  excelsa,  331 
Picea  omorica,  332 
Picea  orientalis,  331 
Picea  (tigertail)  polita,  332 
Picea  (white)  alba,  331 
Pine,  umbrella  (Sciadopitys  verti- 

cillata),  333 
Pinus  austriaca,  333 
Pinus  (Bhotan)  excelsa,  332 
Pinus  (Mugho)  Mughus,  333 
Pinus  parviflora,  333 
Pinus  (pitch)  rigida,  332 
Pinus  (red)  resinosa,  332 
Pinus  (Swiss  stone)  cembra,  333 
Pinus  (white)  strobus,  332 
Plato,  causes  of  things,  iii 
Pliny  the  Younger  describing  his 

villa,  7 
Polo,  Marco,  residence  in  Cathay, 

67 
Pope,  Alexander,  genius  of  place, 

15 

Poplar,  Lombardy,  use  in  connex- 
ion with    bridges,  291 ;    proper 
use  of,  317 
Pordenone,  Oderic  of,  Franciscan 

friar  and  traveller,  68 
Potentilla  fruticosa   (shrubby 

cinquefoil),  321 
Price,  principles  of  Claude,  35 
Prickly  pear  (wild  cactus),  92 
Privet     (Ligustrum     ovalifolium) , 

327 

Privet  (Ligustrum  regelianum) ,  327 
Puckler,  Prince,  von  Muskau,  120; 


treatment  of  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne, 29;  architecture  in  the 
landscape,  29;  importance  of 
prompt  correction  of  mistakes, 
47;  estate  of,  60;  garden  art 
compared  with  music,  8i;  size 
of  estate,  84;  Claude,  87;  Eng- 
lish, French,  Italian,  and 
Roman  gardens,  87;  grading, 
184;  definition  of  the  term 
"garden,"  241;  Chiswick  flower 
gardens,  262 
Purchas,  Marco  Polo's  travels,  67 

Racine,  free  nature,  55 

Rapin,  formal  style  of  landscape 
gardening,  II 

Rep  ton,  Humphry,  v,  21,  22, 
23;  requisites  for  landscape 
gardening,  52;  landscape  treat- 
ment around  the  house,  102; 
design  of  house,  107;  treatment 
of  distant  views,  113;  water, 

147 

Retinospora  filifera,  334 
Retinospora  obtusa,  334 
Retinospora  plumosa,  334 
Retinospora  psifera,  334 
Retinospora  squarrosa,  334 
Rhamnus  catharticus,  322 
Rhamnus  frangula,  322 
Rhododendrons,  best  hardy  sorts, 

309;  best  soil  for,  312 
Robinson,  William,  need  of  sound 

views  on  landscape  gardening, 

23;  use  of  rocks,  174 
Rock  plants,  proper  place  for,  92 
Rosa  rugosa,  309 
Rose,  scarlet  rambler,  ^3 14 
Rose,  setigera  or  prairie  rose,  314 
Roses,  climbing,  173;  Wichuriana 

hybrids,  308 ;  prairie,  309,  hybrid 

tea  or  ever  blooming,  309 
Rousseau,  J.  J.,  17,  245,  246 
Royce,  Josiah,  299 
Rubus  odoratus,  322 

Sargent,    Prof."   C.    S.,    artificial 

lake,  158 
Saxifrage,  173 
Scale,  San  Jose*,  308 
Schopenhauer,  iv 
Shairp,    John    Campbell,    effects 

of  nature  on  the  spirit,  273 
Sheep  for  lawns,  131 


347 


Shenstone,  essay  on  landscape 
gardening,  14;  criticism  of,  15 

Sidewalk,  treatment  of,  100 

Smith,  Sydney,  69 

Smollett,  Villa  Pinciani,  247 

Snyder,  Prof.  Harry,  126 

Sod  gutters,  137 

Sophora  japonica  (Japanese  pa- 
goda tree),  320 

Sorrel  tree  (Oxydendron  arboreum 
or  Andremeda  arbor  ed),  314 

Speranza,  Gino  C.,  65 

Spinoza,  56 

Spiraa  Anthony  Waterer,  322 

Spiraea  billardi,  322 

Spirtza  bumaldi,  322 

Spireea  callosa,  322 

Spircea  douglasi,  322 

Spircea  thunbergii,  322 

Staples,  John,  62 

Stiles,  William  A.,  vi;  concerning 
Andrew  Jackson  Downing,  264; 
importance  of  persistence  of 
types  in  parks,  286;  nurseries 
in  parks,  296;  pastoral  scenery 
in  parks,  297 

Stonecrop  (Sedum  Sacre),  92,  172 

Straight  drive  in  Central  Park, 
New  York  City,  142 

Stuartia  pentagynia,  323 

Sty  rax  japonica,  323 

Symons,  Arthur,  Villa  Mattei,  252 

Symphoricarpus  vulgaris,  322 

Tacitus,    description    of    Golden 

House,  6 

Tamarix  africana,  323 
Tamarix  gallica,  323 
Tamarix  germanica,  323 
Tamarix  indica,  323 
Taylor,  Isaac,  the  picturesque,  234 
Thompson,  Francis,  lines  on  the 

laburnum,  315 

Thuya  (arbor-vitae),  American,  334 
Tintern  Abbey,  description  of  its 

site,  104 
Trosachs,  141 
Tsuga  sieboldii,  334 
Turner,   value   of    the    study    of 

nature,  32 

Vaux,   Calvert,   concerning   lawn 


planting  in  its  widest  sense,  i; 
imitation  of  nature,  4;  creator 
of    Central    Park,    New    York 
City,  26;  flower  beds  in  Central 
Park,  New  York  City,  241-243 
Versailles,  character  of,  55 
Viburnum  acerifolium,  324 
Viburnum  cassanoides,  324 
Viburnum  dentatum,  324 
Viburnum  lantana,  324 
Viburnum  lentago,  324 
Viburnum  macrocephalum,  324 
Viburnum   opulus   sterilis    (snow- 

ball),  324 

Viburnum  oxy  coccus  (opulus),  324 
Viburnum  plicatum,  324 
Viburnum  prunifolium,  324 
Viburnum  sieboldi,  324 
Vines,  different  kinds  of,  326 
Virginia  creeper,  its  use  by  Prince 
Piickler,  97;  base  of  wall,  173 

Walpole,  Horace,  Kent's  landscape 

gardening,  12 
Warwick  Castle,  115 
Water-lily  (Nymphceapygmea),  160 
Weigela,  Eva  Rathke,  321 
Weigela  lavallee,  321 
West  Point,  New  York,  gates  of 

the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson,  89 
Whately,  Thomas,  175-178,  208- 

210,  213-216;  perversion  of  art, 

33-355  water,  148-155;  grading, 

186-197 

Willow,  pussy  (Salix  caprea),  307 
Willow,  red-stemmed,  306 
Willow,  weeping,  306 
Willow,  white,  306 
Willow,  yellow-stemmed,  306 
Windham,  Lord,  35 
Windsor    Park,    description    and 

praise  of,  58 
Wire  fence,  92 
Wordsworth,  William,  landscape 

gardening    a    liberal    art,    40; 

effects  of  nature  on  spirits,  273 

Yew  (Taxus  cuspidata),  333 
Yew  (Taxus  repandens},  333 
Young,  Arthur,  estate  of  Ermen- 

ouyille,    17;    criticism  of  Petit 

Trianon,  18 


t 

Landscape  Gardening 

Notes  and  Suggestions  on  Lawns  and  Lawn- 
Planting,  Laying  Out  and  Arrangement  of 
Country  Places,  Large  and  Small  Parks, 
Cemetery  Plots,  and  Railway  Station 
Lawns;    Deciduous    and    Ever- 
green Trees  and  Shrubs,  The 
Hardy     Border,    Bedding 
Plants,  Rockwork,  etc. 


By 

Samuel  Parsons,  Jr. 

Ex-Superintendent  of  Parks,  New  York  City 

Large  8°,     With  Neatly  200  Hesitations.     $3.50 
Popular  Edition,  $2,00 

"  We  commend  it  highly  to  all  landowners,  as 
being  certain,  first,  to  incite  an  intelligent  admira- 
tion of  handsome  (though  not  necessarily  exten- 
sive or  costly)  grounds ;  and,  second,  to  impart 
clear  and  precise  information  for  the  improve- 
ment of  perhaps  every  kind  of  rural  premises." 
— The  Cultivator  and  Country  Gentleman, 


New  York  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons   London 


Modern  Civic  Art 

The  Citv  Made  Beautiful 


By  CHARLES  MULFORD  ROBINSON 
Author  of  "Improvement  of  Towns  and  Cities,"  etc. 

Octavo.    Third  Revised  Edition.    With  30  Full- 
page  Illustrations. 
Net  $3.00     (By  Mail,  $3.25) 

4*  PROBABLY  no  American  has  thought  more  on  the  subject  of 
*  the  beautifying  of  cities,  or  thought  to  better  effect,  than  has 
Charles  Mulford  Robinson.  His  first  book,  'The  Improvement  of 
Towns  and  Cities,'  gave  the  greatest  impetus  to  the  now  widespread 
movement  for  civic  beauty  that  it  has  yet  received  in  this  country. 
His  occasional  articles  since  have  contributed  vastly  to  information, 
delight,  and  enthusiasm  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  learned  that 
the  places  where  men  live  are  worthy  of  love  and  care."  —  Philadel- 
phia Ledger. 

"It  is  difficult  to  name  any  movement  for  the  bettering  of  mu- 
nicipal conditions  that  is  of  greater  importance,  or  shows  more  likeli- 
hood of  success,  than  that  of  which  Mr.  Charles  Mulford  Robinson's 
new  book,  'Modern  Civic  Art,'  is  the  latest  exponent.  There  is 
hardly  a  matter  concerning  the  adornment  of  the  city,  the  convenience 
and  comfort  of  the  people  as  a  whole,  that  is  not  discussed.  To  give 
force  to  suggestions  concrete  examples  are  given,  for,  luckily,  there 
is  scarcely  a  possible  improvement  of  our  cities  that  cannot  be  seen 
in  some  one  city.  The  book  is  a  strong  plea." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"Civic  art  is  one  of  the  sanest  and  most  sensible  practical  move- 
ments of  this  day,  and  is  just  now  meeting  with  a  consideration  which 
signifies  a  great  triumphant  movement  for  the  beauty  and  comfort  of 
our  municipalities.  .  .  At  a  time  when  real  beginnings  are  being 
made,  and  a  desire  is  becoming  general  and  emphatic  to  carry  this 
city  beautifying  forward,  the  splendid  book  by  Mr.  Robinson  comes 
as  especially  welcome  and  appropriate.  It  is  a  most  complete  and 
thorough  work.  We  should  almost  say  that  every  patriotic  citizen 
should  have  this  beautiful  and  helpful  book  in  his  library."— St.  Paul 
Dispatch. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
New  York  London 


Field  Book  of  American 
Trees  and  Shrubs 

By 

F.  Schuyler  Mathews 

Author  of  "  Field  Book  of  American  Wild 

Flowers,"  "  Field  Book  of  Wild  Birds 

and  Their  Music  " 

16°.     With  Many  Illustrations,  Some  in  Color 

and  Maps 
Cloth,  $2.00.     Full  leather,  $2.50 

Mr.  Mathews's  earlier  books,  dealing 
with  American  Wild  Flowers  and  Wild 
Birds,  are  a  sufficient  guaranty  for  his 
volume  on  American  Trees  and  Shrubs. 
The  book  is  not  only  artistic  in  form 
but  also  possesses  scientific  accuracy  and 
value.  It  covers  the  entire  territory  of 
the  United  States.  An  important  feat- 
ure is  a  series  of  maps  showing  the 
habitat  of  the  various  species. 

Q.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


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